Waiting On The World To Change
by justsomebrittanagleek
Summary: She finds herself caring about what Brittany thinks. More than anyone else. She just doesn't know why. Re-upload! (Previous 600 reviews)
1. Part One

**Title: **Waiting On The World To Change [Part One]  
**Pairing, Characters**: Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce, Quinn Fabray, Noah Puckerman, Kurt Hummel, Rachel Berry, and mentions of other characters  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary: **She finds herself caring about what Brittany thinks. More than anyone else. She just doesn't know why. Warning: Girl!Peen  
**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned something, but I don't.  
**Word Count:** 5.9k

**Author's Note:** This is a re-upload! I'e taken away the G!P warning so hopefully it won't get deleted!

* * *

Santana owns McKinley High.

She's owned it since the day Coach Sue stripped her of street clothes, her normal sleep routine, her regular diet and replaced it with extreme, unpleasant versions. She's owned it since she walked down the corridors and the scowl etched across her face sent even the older years scurrying off. And she's sure as hell owned it since she kicked Rosie Malcom's ass – who was three years older – in a one-on-one game of dodge ball for the Head Cheerio spot.

Sure, it was kind of tough at the beginning to make sure she wasn't all talk, but it was a small price to pay for the reputation she's earned.

And even though she'd never verbally admit it, she totally loves coming to school because of it.

Sure, she loves being at home and actually have a social life too, but she likes how everyone knows her in school. How she's feared, loved, hated and leered at all at the same time. How when she walks down the corridors with one hand cocked on her hip, high pony swinging with her step, everyone just parts like Moses and the Red Sea.

Being Head Cheerio, there are certain advantages that other students don't have. For example, when she forgets to do her English homework and Mrs Walker starts yelling, she just puts up a hand and says _"talk to Coach about it"_ with a knowing smirk. It'll take about five minutes before the teacher comes stomping back in, flushed red and annoyance etching across her features because Coach Sue just tore her a new one – and for the remains of the lesson, she'll kick back and relax because Mrs Walker won't dare to challenge her again.

Another advantage about being a Cheerio is that when she walks past those singing nerdlings in the Choir room, who kiss Greasy McDeepFry's ass after he picks _another_ song from the long list of Journey albums, she can scoff, insult them with unprovoked curses and walk off with a few of her Cheerios flanking her with the knowledge that she's so much better than them.

All in all, high school is her bitch.

And she fucking _loves_ it.

* * *

Waking up on the first day of Senior year, is probably one of the best feelings in the world. It's not like she wasn't already head of the school, but being a Junior and having the Seniors look down at her just because they have a year on her, used to really piss her off.

She can hear her mother downstairs talking animatedly with her father and her younger brother scampering across the upstairs corridor, whining when he can't slam the door because he hasn't yet got a grip on the soft close that her father had installed. She looks out the window and sees the sun shining down on Lima, and knows it's just going to be a good day.

"Mija," her mother calls knocks lightly on the door, "It's time to get up."

Santana groans, throwing the comforter off her legs and stands, rubbing away the ache in the back of her eyes with knuckles. "I'm up."

The door creaks open and her mom sticks her head in, "I'm off to work. Your father's already gone so you'll need to take Fernando to school this morning."

"Sure, mami." She smiles because despite being a complete bitch _in_ school, at home she's actually kind of nice.

If her father heads to work early, which usually happens two or three times a week, she takes the responsibility to drop her little brother off at school and then heads off to McKinley – switching herself into _bitch mode_ as soon as her BMW rolls into the parking lot. No-one ever comes to the Lopez household, not even Quinn, so it's not like she'll ever be found out to be nicer than she really is.

And despite what people might think, having an _addition_ actually brought her and her family closer, because they've always loved and supported her despite being different. Something about uniting them together or some other philosophical shit, she doesn't really remember. It's been such a long time since her parents sat her down to talk about it that it's kind of slipped out her memory.

"There's twenty dollars by the front door for lunch. Have a nice day, mija." Her mother says before smiling and closing the door.

She hears her mother's shoes click across the floorboards as she moves down the hall and then begins her morning routine, heading for the bathroom.

* * *

Within half an hour, she's showered, dressed and smacking her lips together, staring at her reflection after pocketing her lip gloss. Fernando's sitting on the bottom step of the flight of stairs, tongue poking out to the side as he fiddles with the laces on his shoes and she smiles.

Walking over to him, she kneels and gently swats away his hands, "Honey, this is how you do it…" she demonstrates, pinching the two laces between her fingers and looking into his almost black eyes, "Build a tee pee, come inside, close it tight so we can hide," she tucks the laces together and loops around once, "Over the mountain and around we go," she loops it one final time and ties it until the knots come together, "Here's my arrow, and here's my bow!"

Fernando giggles and claps his hands together. Sure, he's seven, but he's always laughed when she recited that little rhyme her Abuela told her when she was her age.

"Yay, Tana!"

She scrunches her nose up and ruffles his hair, pushing against her knees to stand.  
"Come on, squirt. Let's get you to school."

"But I haven't had breakfast?" He cocks his head to the side, dark brows furrowing like she just took away one of his toys.

She chuckles, "Here," she takes out the granola bar she had stored for a lunchtime snack and hands it to him, "it may taste like cardboard to you, but it's actually pretty decent."

"I don't know what dee-snet means, Tana."

She just grins and shakes her head. Thankfully, he takes the bar anyway and then Santana grabs her bag before they head out the door, locking it behind them and out to her car. The garage door opens slowly, and she curses the day she thought it was a good idea to wash her BMW inside the garage – since rust effects the speed of the damn door and the hose totally has a mind of its own – but it's a lesson learnt.

Considering she's seventeen, it's kind of ridiculous that a brand new BMW is her first car, but who was she to refuse her father when he handed over the keys on her sixteenth birthday with a smile? Plus, she's pretty sure it was some weird type of compensation from him considering it's from his side of the family that her _addition_ came from.

Fernando yanks open the door, clambering in on his knees and then onto the seat because the car's taller than him and she rounds the car to close the door because he can't. She slides in next, throwing her backpack into the back seat and reverses out the driveway slowly, before driving towards Fort Shawnee. It's the only private middle school in the area, and seeing as Santana went there, it only seemed fitting for Fernando too as well.

Another benefit of him going to a private school is that no other families in McKinley can afford it, so she doesn't have to worry about being seen - and revealing that she's actually nice - when dropping her little brother off.

They pull up outside Fernando's school around twenty minutes later, and Santana leans across the console, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she opens the door with her free hand. It's the first day of second grade for him too, and she can tell how nervous he is by his tiny legs dangling off the side, heels banging against the leather of the car seat. He glances out the open door, unbuckling his seatbelt but she puts a hand to his small shoulder and pushes back,

"Alright squirt, what's up?" She asks, retracting her hand and crossing both arms over her chest.

Fernando tugs his bottom lip between his teeth and gnaws. "What if the new kids don't like me?"

She shakes her head. "Fern, they're exactly the same kids from last year. It's not like you get a whole new batch. Plus, you're a Lopez," she shrugs and smiles, "You'll rule the school."

"Yeah?" Fernando asks with wide, excited eyes.

Santana nods, and turns back in her seat, facing out the front. "Yeah, Ferny. Now come on, scoot. I've gotta get to school."

"Tana? Can you walk me in?"

He looks so small and vulnerable that she can't refuse. Back in freshman year when she sat in her mother's car, looking up at the school with pigtails and no idea what was to come, she was terrified. She remembers how small she felt back then and only smiles at the mirror image of her brother. Who knows, maybe he'll be a Jock when he reaches High School and take over the Lopez title as head of the school?

"Sure," she unbuckles her belt, switches off the engine and climbs out.

Rounding the car, she spots an old school, baby blue Volkswagen Beetle bumbling up the driveway, with Beyoncé playing on the radio. The roof is down, and she narrows her eyes, grabbing her little brother's elbow as he slides down the chair with his butt hitting the frame on the way down.

"Careful," she says, eyes still trained on the car and turns back to him when he grabs her hand.

Fernando grins up at her, teetering nervously as he slams the door and then they start walking into the school, him bumbling into her legs as they approach the school steps. The principal is standing at the top of the stairs, a Cheshire grin pasted across his smirking, meerkat-like face as he rocks up onto the balls of his feet – welcoming in the students to a new year at Fort Shawnee Middle School.

She remembers the way he leered at her last year when she came to drop Fernando off with her mother, and how _unsubtle_ he is, even now, when the young mothers drop off their children. The image of him crapping himself when their hotshot husbands turn up, one hand on their wives ass and the other holding the keys to a hundred grand car would be pretty amusing. Shame that the husband's probably off screwing one of their many mistresses though.

They pause at the bottom of the steps and she crouches in front of Fernando, enough to look up at him whilst taking both his hands. "You gonna be alright?"

Fernando's wide eyes beam as he nods, like he's just been injected with excitement. "Yes, I'm excited now."

"Good," she smiles and nods, "Go on then. Inside."

Fernando leans in and presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek before gripping his back tightly and bounding up the steps. She stands, smoothing out her Cheerio uniform as she watches him with a loving grin. _God_, if anyone from school saw her now she'd probably lose _everything_, and that's not even an exaggeration.

She waits until he's disappeared before turning around and heads back to her car. From the corner of her eye, she sees the blue VW Beetle from before, parked two spots behind her and narrows her eyes. Usually there's Ferrari's, Range Rover's and Mustang's here, never old school cars like this one. Another secret is that she loves cars, in all their glory. So immediately she can tell it's a 1978 Bug, rare one at that. It's in pretty good condition considering its age, and she fleetingly wonders who owns it considering quite a lot of work must have been done on it to restore it.

But all thoughts of the car are literally pushed out her mind when a body collides with her own, sending her stumbling back a few steps. Luckily she has reactions like a cat so she saves herself from falling and grazing her elbows. A scowl immediately etches across her face because yeah, outside of McKinley she's not supposed to be a bitch, but it's pretty hard to switch off bitch mode when someone barges into her like this.

"Watch it," she growls, backing up to look at the person as she dusts off her uniform. There's not going to be any dirt there, but Coach Sue will_kill_ her if even a stupid crease lingers somewhere on the fabric.

"Sorry," the girl says, blue eyes wide and blonde hair dangling in front of her face. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Santana narrows her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that this girl is stunningly attractive in a very obvious way, and that it's kind of breaking her will to stay pissed. But she pretends every day to be a bitch, so pretending for a minute or two more will be a walk in the park.

Except when she speaks it's not exactly what she had planned.

"It's fine," her voice is so soft she finds herself shocked, "My little brother does that it the time." She doesn't know why she says it, because Fernando isn't actually clumsy at all. He's more stable than most seven year old's should be.

The blonde girl grins anyway, revealing a perfect set of pearly whites. "My little sister does, too."

Suddenly it feels like she can't describe how she's feeling. Being in this close proximity to someone, and _not_ having her bitch defences up is pretty fucking strange. Especially because the way the girl's looking at her with bright blue eyes and a wide smile makes her want to smile herself.

There's something missing from this girl's face. The normal parents or siblings of the students have growls or that _'I'm rich so I can do whatever I want'_ aura about them; but this girl, there's nothing vicious or pretentious about her. It's pure, and whole, and sends an uneasy feeling through her body because she finds herself wanting to know more.

She shakes her head, straightening up and backing away a step to put distance between them. What the hell is she doing?

"I've gotta go," she says, darting her eyes towards her car and back, just in time to notice how blue eyes linger over her uniform. "To school. Bye."

"Uh…" she hears as she turns on her heels and walks away, "Okay, nice meeting you."

She barely turns and smiles weakly in acknowledgement, "You too."

The car peels away from the curb and she stares in the mirror, watching the mysterious blonde stand with a cocked head and a quizzical expression.

Something's changing and she's pretty sure she doesn't like it.

* * *

Like she does every morning, as soon as the McKinley High parking lot comes into view she glances in the mirror and pulls on her HBIC smirk. When she stops she'll put on a layer of lip gloss, smack her lips together like she did earlier and slide out the car, holding her chin high and cocking an eyebrow. Quinn will jog on over to her, matching her position and then only seconds later Sugar will do the same before they walk into school and part the crowd.

She pulls up into her usual spot, just beside the school entrance and the field entrance and also happens to be the best one around, and switches off the engine. Coach Sylvester reserved an entire row of parking spots just for the Cheerios and the last time a non-Cheerio parked there; they had a four hundred dollar parking fine and had their car towed. Coach has a cousin down in Lima Parking or something like that.

Santana applies her lip gloss, pockets it and then glances in the mirror. She fluffs up her hair and smirks at herself, waiting until she hears Quinn's white Chrysler pull up to her right and reaches for the handle. Sugar pulls up to her left a second later in her silver Mercedes and they all climb out in sync, grabbing their bags and walking to the back of their cars. They all glance at each other, smiling in lieu of a greeting and begin the short walk towards the steps.

Except instead of continuing walking when she hears a car pull into the parking lot (because really? This is Santana. She doesn't care what anyone else does apart from the two girls beside her, and even then the give-a-shit box is lacking) she stops. Something creeps down her spine, kind of like a Slushy dribbling down her back and it makes her teeter uneasily.

It's an uncomfortable feeling and Quinn pauses beside her, cocking a perfectly shaped eyebrow whilst Sugar just grins away, not knowing what the hell is going on because she's not exactly with it.

"Santana?" Quinn questions, hooking her thumb underneath the strap of her backpack and shrugging it up. "What's wrong?"

Santana narrows her eyes, foot hovering in the air with the step below and brings it back to the floor. "Nothing," she shakes it off, wondering what the hell's going on and continues to walk, not bothering to look behind, "Let's go."

Quinn decides not to argue and shrugs before carrying on, tugging Sugar by the elbow as they proceed down the hallway, purposely looking for anyone who's brave enough to meet their evil smirks.

As per usual, no-one does, and she kind of wishes someone did because that uncomfortable feeling doesn't seem to be going away and God only knows scaring the shit out of a freshman would make her feel better. Or 'accidentally' shoving Berry into a locker.

Either one would be good; but the morning doesn't look promising.

* * *

She's been back at school for a week now and every morning she's insisted on dropping Fernando off at school because that friggin' blonde girl that ran into her has been playing on her mind a hell of a lot. But there's been no such luck and Fernando doesn't seem to know of a girl in his class with the _'clumsy blonde sister'_, not that Santana's bothered or anything.

She's only _merely_ intrigued by this girl.

She's standing by her locker, piling books into it with Quinn leaning against the one next to it, eyeing up the fresh meat as they scamper down the hallways. Hazel eyes brighten when the mohawked douchebag Puckerman waltzes towards her with a wide grin and beaming eyes that just screams _'I had sex last night'_.

Makes sense considering when Santana text Quinn, she received a blunt reply consisting of, _"sorry, can't talk, with Puck."_

_That_ relationship isn't going to last long, anyway.

It has to have been at least the sixth time they've given the Quick relationship a try. Each one of them ending with Santana and Sugar cradling a crying Quinn and thinking of reasons not to yell at her best friend because she's being a stupid bitch. Puckerman's always been a player and will never _not_ be one.

Rolling her eyes, she thinks about how much money she could make off Sam if she made a bet with him about the length of this relationship.

"Seriously?" she slams her locker shut. "Puckerman? Again? Really?"

Quinn shrugs. "He's nice."

"Because he wants to get into your pants…" Santana whispers as Puckerman gets closer.

"Guess it worked," Quinn says quickly before pushing off the locker she's leaning on and closing the gap to stick her tongue down Puckerman's throat for several uncomfortable minutes.

Santana shakes her head and mutters, "Meet you in class" to the blonde before walking past and heading for Spanish. Sugar hops up beside her a second later, and takes her place to Santana's left before holding her head high and matching the walking pace, both heading for class.

* * *

Everything about Spanish class has always been tedious for Santana.

Usually Mr Schuester taught it and she'd roll her eyes every time he referred to Taco Bell being a Spanish delicacy. He literally doesn't have a fucking clue what he's talking about, and if it wasn't for his terrible accent, the way he froze up whenever Santana raised her hand and asked him in something in Spanish would prove it.

But today's different.

Today, there's a hunky new teacher perched on the desk when she enters with bright eyes and a slight quiff. It's not a secret that she likes girls - but that doesn't mean she can't appreciate the male form when she sees a fine specimen, and _damn_, Mr Martinez (according to his scribbled writing on the white board behind him) is _seriously_ hot.

"You must be Santana," he greets her, offering out his hand.

Perfectly shaped eyebrows scrunch together, as she looks at his hand with slight disgust. "Yes?"

"I've heard a lot about you," he pushes up from the desk and retracts his hands.

Glancing around, she notices the majority of the class is missing and frowns. "Where is everyone? And Where's Schuester?"

"Glee, club" he tells her, "It's Spanish week and I thought it'd be best for some of the members to go there considering Regionals is coming up next month."

Santana scoffs, "Right," she throws her books down on her desk and rolls her eyes, "Well I'm not going before you suggest it."

"Wasn't going too," he rounds his desk, "But it was nice to meet a fellow Latino in the school. Ethnic diversity isn't exactly a strong point here at McKinley is it?"

She narrows her eyes, not knowing where he's going with this, "Guess not," she takes a seat and looks around the class.

Apart from her, there's four other people in the class, all of which she's pretty sure have all moved back a seat due to her presence. Sugar was supposed to be in the lesson, but Coach Sue called her to her office so now Santana's just here alone.

"Seriously, where is everyone?" she turns back to him and cocks an eyebrow.

At that moment, Quinn twirls in, the flaps of her Cheerios skirt brushing against her thighs as she takes a seat beside Santana. In the same fashion as she did a second ago, the blonde's brows furrow and she scans the room, before turning to Santana and whispering, "Where the hell is everyone?"

"At Glee," Mr Martinez interrupts, "You must be Quinn Fabray."

Quinn narrows her eyes. Glad to know it's not just Santana who's finding this strange. "Yes, and you are?" Quinn asks in a very demeaning manner.

"Mr Martinez, but you can call me Sir."

Quinn leans forward on her forearms, "And why have the rest of the class been abducted by those choir singing freaks?"

"They're not choir singing freaks," Mr Martinez comes to stand in front of the desk, muscular arms crossed across his chest as he stares down at the two who just glance up with I don't give a fuck expressions. "And because they'll benefit from learning to sing in Spanish, as you two would if you weren't so stubborn," his eyes flicker between the two and Santana just snorts a laughter.

"We actually _like_ having lives," Santana says, squaring her shoulders defensively, "Instead of spending our free time dedicating 'precious'," she emphasises by quoting the words with her fingers, "time towards singing lame ass show choir songs that aren't going to get us anywhere in life except the highway to Slushy Facial city; destination Loserville."

Mr Martinez lifts his head amusedly and smiles. Yes, smiles at Santana's attempt to offend Glee. "You have a lot to learn, Miss Lopez."

She lets out another scoff, "Okay, _Sir_," and sits back in her chair whilst he starts the lesson.

There's something uneasy about the way he studies her for the first half hour.

* * *

Unfortunately, she has double Spanish which means two hours of this. What makes it worse is that Quinn only has one, and then heads off to advanced Science with Puck. He may look as dumb as a bag of wet hair, but he's pretty intellectual when it comes down to it.

She thinks it can't get any worse, but then of course, _it does_.

The Glee kids return, clutching their books to their chests and discussing their sad little performance which probably consisted of another monotonous duet between Rachel fucking Berry and her stupid, ogre of a boyfriend, Hudson. Who actually used to be popular before he ruined his reputation and joined Glee.

"She was amazing!" An Asian chick says. The one with Gothic tendencies and ridiculous clip on hair extensions. "I can't believe someone can move like that."

"Hey!" Another Asian pipes up, but it's the dancing one. Another jock who thought joining Glee was a good idea. "I can move like that," he emphasises it by popping and locking his way to his desk.

Rachel pipes up next, "In my opinion she can move like a Goddess. Some of the Cheerios could learn a few moves from her." Santana's brow cocks and when Berry turns, her eyes widen and fear etches its way onto her face. It kind of makes her want to smirk.

"What was that dwarf?" Santana snipes through gritted teeth.

"Uh…" Rachel shuffles, eyes darting to the two Asians now paused at the back of the room, hovering and not knowing what to do, "Nothing, Santana. I apologise."

"Good," she cocks her head to the side, "Now hurry along. I'm sure you have something uninteresting to do."

Rachel shoots her a hurt expression but she just rolls her eyes and shuffles, crossing one leg over the other whilst staring at the whiteboard. The majority of the students have returned now but another _hour_ of Spanish, especially with Mr Martinez who keep looking at her like he knows something, is just something she doesn't want to do at the moment.

She brushes a piece of hair out of her face and glances around one final time before sticking her hand in the air. "Mr Martinez, I'm not feeling well."

The teacher narrows his eyes, "You seemed fine a minute ago when you were trying to scare Rachel."

Santana scoffs, "Things change. And if you think that was me trying to scare her, you need to check again."

With reluctance, the teacher nods sternly and she grins, picking up her books and heading out the door. Once in the hallway, she almost leans back against a wall and sighs because she now has a free hour to do _nothing_.

She could go home, but that would be pretty pointless considering by the time she got there, she'd probably have about twenty minutes before having to come back. She exhales heavily and pushes herself off the floor, heading towards her locker because if she's going to do nothing for an hour, she doesn't want to lumber around her books.

She's one hallway away from her locker when she hears music. Her ears perk up and she stops breathing, trying to pin point where it's coming from because that strange feeling is back, clawing at her stomach and making her feel uneasy.

The janitor comes around the corner a second later, headphones in and head bobbing to every sweep of his mop and she rolls her eyes._Fucking janitor._

Her legs lead her forward anyway until she reaches her locker and she swings open the door after putting in her combo, eyes sliding to her left when she hears the same music. She's pretty sure Mr Kidney's music isn't _that_ loud, so there's no way she can hear it from the next hallway and her eyes narrow.

_Why the fuck is she getting suspicious over music?_

Santana can't help but feel a pull towards whatever she's hearing and abandons her locker, not even bothering to shut the door as her brows furrow and legs move towards the source ever so slowly. She looks around expectantly, but there's nothing but empty corridors and that damn music that's echoing quietly around it.

Impeccable hearing and intense curiosity have always been benefits for her, but right now it's kind of pissing her off. Anyone else either wouldn't hear the stupid song, or just shrug and walk away, and usually, she'd probably do the same – but right now it feels like she's being drawn to the room by some invisible, magnetic force.

Weighing the chances of her being able to walk around aimlessly without wanting to find out where that damn music's coming from or or doing the same and failing horribly, she decides she might as well take a look. Perking up her ears, she narrows her eyes and heads down the corridor, pausing momentarily to whip her head from side to side and spot the door to the choir room open. However it's from the side so unless she walks up and takes a peek in, she won't see anything.

She knows she's going to do it at some point, so she gives in.

She walks up to the door, slowing when she gets only metres away and sucks in her top lip, gnawing on the flesh lightly. If anyone saw her right now, they'd totally think she's high or something. What Cheerio stands outside the fucking _choir room_, nervously teetering and obviously debating whether or not to actually look inside.

It's a known fact that if anyone wants to keep their reputation, no matter how awful it may be, they don't even _look_ inside the choir room. The equivalent of it is like looking at Medusa.

Scanning the hallways one final time, she leans in, shoulder resting against the wall next to the door frame. About a millisecond before she can actually look into the room, the music ceases and she freezes.

"You can come in you know," she hears a soft voice and her eyes narrow for two reasons. One because _fuck_, she's been caught and two because, where the hell has she heard that voice before? "I'm not gonna bite."

That uncomfortable feeling is back. The slushy-down-the-back one where she feels uneasy and knows something's different. Like something's changing in the air and there's fuck all she can do about it.

She's pretty sure she's never moved as fast as she has when her legs speed her away from the scene, like she's just been caught with blood on her hands in front of a dead body. Judging by the volume of the voice, she'll have about four seconds to hide before that person, whoever the fuck it is, steps outside and watches her retreating form. Pretty hard to hide in this stupid Cheerio's uniform.

But luckily, she makes it anyway, back pressing against the wall around the corner to conceal her presence when soft footsteps echo down the hallway. Breathing hard, she squeezes her eyes shut because now if she's found, not only will she have looked weird because she was standing outside the choir room, but now she'll have run away too which makes her look double-y suspicious.

The footsteps pause and she sucks in a breath, holding it in. Her heart's pounding hard, pulse beating in her ears and veins throbbing with adrenaline. But then the unknown person sighs, and if she didn't know any better she'd say she could hear a head shake. Moments later, the footsteps start up again, slowly fading into the distance and she lets out a heavy exhale.

Eyes flickering from side to side, her brows furrow and lips purse. This isn't her. Seriously, she'd never do this. Usually if she heard music, she'd probably just walk away. But no. Not this time. Instead she's backed up against a wall in attempt to hide from that unknown person. And the worst part about it? She doesn't even know why or who was playing that music and it's tugging at the base of her skull, urging her to know.

Rolling her eyes and shoving her thoughts aside, she pushes off the wall, scanning the corridor's one last time before heading back to her locker.

Something's playing with her mind, and even though she doesn't smoke, she seriously needs a smoke right now. Even if it is under the bleachers with The Skanks, who don't actually mind her that much. Despite the usual losers hate Cheerios cliché that most people think exist in high school.

Apart from the Gleeks and Cheerios, that bit's true. That's something that'll never change.

Well, that's what Santana thinks anyway.


	2. Part Two

**Title: **Waiting On The World To Change [Part Two]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **5.4k**  
**

* * *

The next day at school pretty much changes her life. Even if she doesn't know it yet.

Nothing major happens. There's no car crashes. No crazed student running around the school with a gun like that kid did in One Tree Hill. There's nothing wholly devastating or depressing about today, because to the rest of the school, nothing _actually _happens. Just the minor turning point in Santana's life that forever alters the path of it.

See? _Minor._

Quinn slides into to the space next to Santana's locker, glaring at the few students around her until they scuttle away.

"Have you seen the New Girl?" the blonde girl asks, arms clutching books close to her chest. "She's hot."

Santana blinks uninterestedly, piling her books into the locker. "Since when do you play for my team, Fabray?"

"I don't." Quinn pushes off the locker to regain her stance. "But even I have to admit she's worth looking at."

"Always thought you were a little gay." Santana smirks, shuts her locker and begins the walk down the corridor once the path of terror has cleared. Quinn shoots her the evil eye before falling into rhythm next to her.

"Just thought you should know. About time you got on something that doesn't wear red and white constantly."

She rolls her shoulders in a half-shrug. "Not my fault the squad can't resist me."

Okay, maybe that parts not entirely true. It's just that Santana's known for having some strange kind of charm that seems to make even the squad lose their spanks as soon as thick eyelashes flutter. Even if they are straight. It's kind of her thing. Priding on the fact she can turn straight girls gay. Few hot minutes or a few hot hours. So far she's yet to meet a girl that can resist her. Apart from Quinn and Sugar, because like, _ew. _That'd be like incest or something.

The good thing about having the parts she does, is that none of the squad want to go and blab that they were seduced and fucked by a girl with a dick, and the ones that do talk highly recommend her seeing as she always manages to give them a mind blowing orgasm. Which in turn just results in more sexual offers and used condoms. Win win situation, really.

Plus, she kind of got over some girls being ashamed of sleeping with her a while back. Shit happens.

"Yeah, but this is your _third _loop, Santana." Quinn arches a brow. "It's getting tedious."

Santana smiles triumphantly. "Nope. They can't get enough of the Lopez charm."

"Or your dick." Quinn monotones. "One day you'll knock one of them up and then Coach will have your ass."

She knows that's true. So far, Sue hasn't actually said anything to her about fucking her way through the squad. Not only because really, it's none of Coach's business, but because technically she's not actually doing anything wrong. All the girls still turn up to practice, even if they have flushed cheeks and a bird bush inspired hairstyle. The routines are still in tact, the girls stay focused and try even harder to make an impression on Santana.

"It's called a condom." Santana smirks knowingly. She's totally won this.

The other girl rolls her eyes. "Moving swiftly on Princess Charm-Me-With-Your-Dick, what you gonna do about this new girl?"

After glaring at Rachel Berry who walks past them, she shrugs. She tries not to focus on Quinn's roaming eyes that snap straight to stubby legs. (Which okay, totally aren't stubbly. For a girl of Rachel Berry's stature, they're actually pretty amazing. But Quinn would have her head for saying that because hello co-captain of the Glee Club?)

"I haven't even met her."

"Then meet her."

"And do what?"

"Hm, I don't know." Quinn purses her lips in thought, mockingly. "How about you use that 'Lopez charm' you've been talking about?"

"How do I even know she's hot?"

A fair eyebrow arches. "If _I _think she's hot then she'll be like your Queen. But whatever," the blonde trails off flippantly. "Doubt the girl would even be into you."

Santana stops, tugging on the other girl's elbow to halt her movement. This is starting to sound like a challenge that's peaks her interest. "Oh, yeah? How do you know that?"

"Girl's in Glee club. You know those losers will have bitched about you by now. Plus, word is she doesn't take kindly to our kind."

Brown eyes narrow. "Our kind?"

"Popular bitches and Cheerios." Quinn explains, slipping her hand out of the other's girls grip and resuming the walk to class. "Apparently she moved from Carmel High because she couldn't stand the girls there."

"Oh." It's the only word that comes from Santana's mouth as she thinks towards the girl. Sure, she may not even be hot, but the mere thought that Quinn _doesn't _think she can get her just makes her want to run around school to find New Girl.

Challenges aren't exactly new for her, though. Once, back in Sophomore year, Quinn bet her that she couldn't get into Honey Johnston's pants (the nun of the school) and three weeks later, and four gruelling dates, she did. Since then, they've been making bets and challenges, and so far, there's been no challenge that she can't complete. It's not like Quinn misses the money, or that Santana needs it for that matter. Both of their families are as rich as Croesus. She just loves the sweet thread of satisfaction that buzzes through her when the blonde hands over a wad of twenties.

"Is that a challenge, Fabray?" Santana lifts her chin regally, smirking.

Quinn runs her tongue along her teeth, then arches a brow and nods. "I think it is. You up for it?"

There's something... Something she hasn't quite figured out yet, the thing that keeps creeping up her spine that's almost making the word 'no' escape from her lips. But then there's Quinn looking at her with that smug smile and a challenging expression, and it just makes her decision for her. She never really had a choice anyway. Pride is always too big of a thing to just drop for Santana.

They cock their heads quickly, sharing a smile before returning to their walk to class.

* * *

Santana sighs loudly as she walks down the hallway. Quinn's off somewhere with Puck (after they decided $200 was a fair wager and Puck rudely interrupted with something about a free house and Quinn practically skipped off) and Sugar's with that new kid Jason in his Ford Mustang out in the parking lot. So now she's alone.

It's times like these where she feels kind of sad that she doesn't have anyone like that.

Yeah, sure, Quinn and Puck just mostly fuck underneath the aluminium seats of the bleachers, but they still care enough for each other to keep going back for it. Even if they've just come from someone else. Guess that's something. And Sugar, well, she's kind of naïve enough to believe that any guy that gets into her pants actually likes her, and even if her relationships last for the maximum of three weeks, they're still relationships.

Santana's never had a real relationship in her entire life. Sex is good. Sex is safe. Sex doesn't involve feelings. She's content with that.

The choir room door is wide open when she turns down that hallway, and her eyes roll despite there not actually being anyone in the corridor with her. Built in reactions, she thinks. Walking down towards the room, because unfortunately the girls bathroom is behind the door opposite, she can hear a song – a different one from the other day.

It's David Gray's _This Years Love. _Embarrassingly, she knows that from the shared iTunes of the Lopez household. Okay, shared it may be, but none of her family downloaded it considering it's stored in 'Santana's folder.' But whatever, she likes David Gray, okay?

She almost slams full pelt into the row of lockers when her eyes slide to the right and conveniently peer into the choir room. All movement in her body ceases. Breathing and the ability to walk. It rips the breath right out of her as she watches the girl occupying the room, dance. The flash of blonde and black twirls through the room, spinning and dipping with intense concentration. There's no-one else in there apart from this girl that the flash of colours belongs too, but judging by the swift, graceful movement, even if there were they'd be a mere blur to the dancer.

The music slows, David Gray's tremulous voice dipping in volume as the song comes to an end, but the girl is still moving, body still flowing and rippling to the effects of the beat behind the lyrics. Santana just can't bring herself to take her eyes off, and even though her mouth could catch flies right now, she couldn't care less.

From the curve of her calf muscle that tightens as she rises to the ball of her foot, or the small slither of perfect skin showing through her rising tank top that seems a little too tight for the girl's height... This girl is just _wow. _Hot doesn't even begin to describe this stranger.

The word _breathtaking _would be so much more fitting.

"Can I help you?"

The voice comes out of nowhere, and snapping her head up, Santana realizes the music's fully stopped and the legs she was blatantly appreciating were actually walking towards her. Glancing up, she comes face to face with the most mesmerizing clear blue eyes that feel like they're piercing through her façade and into the deepest pits of her soul.

She's seen these eyes before. But decidedly _not_ anywhere near McKinley High because she remembers stuttering like a fool and practically sprinting away from them. Then it clicks. Falls into place like a perfect puzzle and Santana feels a small smile tug at her lips.

"New Girl," she says like they're old friends. Trying not to remember their first encounter at Fernando's school even though her wavering voice contradicts it. She can't help but feel that slight tinge of panic that spirals through her body knowing this stranger has seen the nicer side of Santana Lopez. One only her close family members has witnessed.

The blonde girl's features remain stoic, though. "Can I help you?" she repeats, her tone not fitting her face. Too dark. Too monotonous.

"No," Santana replies. Because it's an instant reaction when she's in bitch mode.

New Girl just glares, eyes narrowed for long moments before taking a step closer. Santana's breath hitches in her throat when she thinks the girl is about to reach for her wrist, but then slender fingers curl around the brass handle of the door and pulls tightly to slam the door shut.

"Okay."

And then Santana's just left staring at the piece of wood like it just jumped into the centre of the hallway and did an Irish jig.

* * *

The reason the Fabray's are so damn rich is that Russell works in Wall Street in New York, flying back every other weekend of his private fucking jet to see his wife and daughter, and Judy is the owner of a hot shot law firm. It also means that the majority of the time, Quinn's alone, which makes Santana feel so much more at ease because the elder Fabray's make her shudder anxiously with their presence.

So she can just walk straight into Quinn's house after school, throw her bag down by the front door, kick off her sneakers and slump on the couch like she owns the place. The blonde doesn't even look up anymore, instead, she keeps her nose buried inside the Math textbook on the dining table, and grunts as a mere acknowledgement.

Usually, Santana never makes a point to come over to Quinn's when she's pissed off, mostly because her friend usually waves her off and ends up saying "get over it" like that's the simplest answer in the world. If it were that damn easy, she totally would've gotten over it already.

But today, she _does _turn up at Quinn's house pissed off. Not because she scuffed her sneaker on the gravel of the parking lot and nearly face planted the concrete, or because she stalled the car twice when she turned on the ignition because her mind was elsewhere. It was because her mind was in fact _elsewhere_. Completely confused and twisted because the girl she'd met at Fernando's school last week, and the one she just met a second ago are totally different people. And there's a little part of her that thinks maybe her bitch mode scheme isn't only applicable to her.

Except there's still that feeling that's telling her she's wrong.

"Can you get over it?" Quinn's muffled voice comes from the right. "Pretty Little Liars is on soon and I don't want your bitching to interrupt my show."

Kicking her heel against the edge of the coffee table, Santana lets out a long sigh she didn't know she was holding and crosses her arms. "I met New Girl."

Of course that would spark Quinn's interest. The other girl snaps her head up, eyes curious. "And?"

"Pretty sure she hates me already."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Most people hate you when they first meet you."

Santana ignores that comment. "But this time I didn't even say anything," she explains, baffled by her own thoughts.

Usually she offends people the first time she meets them. Hell, she even insulted Quinn when they first met. But this New Girl, she was just looking. Staring, even. Okay, that sounds weird.

"I was just watching her dance-"

"Creepy."

"That's not creepy." Brown eyes narrow. "I was going to the toilet and the Choir room was right there with the door open. What was I supposed to do? Not look?"

Quinn claps her textbook shut, putting the lid of her pen on and putting it down. "Yes, exactly. You know how much shit Azimio and Karofsky will give you if they even catch you _near _that damn room."

"It's next to the loo." Santana ducks her head condescendingly. "I _pee _in there."

The blonde shrugs, pushes back on her chair and heads over towards the couch – quickly grabbing the remote on the coffee table. "Well either pee somewhere else or get a catheter."

She scrunches her face up in disgust. "Q, that's gross."

Quinn shrugs, flicks on the TV and settles back into the couch. "Deal with it. So what's your next move?"

Planning has never been a strong point for Santana. Sure, it's different for like class when they have a project, or when she has the house free for a weekend because her parents went to Vermont for a romantic weekend and has the opportunity to arrange a party. But talking to people, and like, planning out a method to get into a girl's pants? _No. _That's just weird. Not to mention the fact that this is the first girl to actually full on hate Santana without even speaking a word to her. That's just never happened before and now she's kind of stuck.

"I might try and be nice to her," Santana tries. Knowing that'd probably be easier than playing the bitch card.

Quinn scoffs. "You actually have the ability to do that?"

"Shut up, Fabray. I'm not constantly a bitch."

The blonde lets out a small chortle. "Yeah, I'm sure you lead a double life."

Santana just sucks in her lips and settles back into the sofa cushions, inwardly smirking because Quinn totally doesn't have a fucking clue. Although, now New Girl's in both of those lives, this bet is going to be so much more complicated than she first thought.

But she's never been one to give up on a bet. Especially not to Quinn smug-face Fabray.

* * *

Another failed attempt at catching New Girl at Fernando's school and about thirty miles or so later, Santana's at school, pen lid tapping on her notebook as she absent-mindedly stares out the door window and towards the Choir room. So far, she's only seen that gay kid Hummel walk in with that weird Asian she saw the other day, and there's yet to be anyone walking out – and she knows that Mr Martinez has been staring at her for the past twenty minutes because she's made a point _not _to look towards the front of the classroom.

Seriously, she's just going to snap at him one day.

The bell rings and all the students stand in sync, gathering their books and heading out in two's like Noah and his fucking Arc. (She hates Religious Studies sometimes.) Out the corner of her eye, Rachel Berry catches her attention and she practically sprints out the room, barging past the other students to get her.

If anyone saw her right now they'd think she was high for running after Barbra Big-Nose.

"Berry!"

The small brunette stops and turn with wide eyes. "Uh," she shuffles, unsure. "Can I assist you?"

Santana lets out a low scoff. "I need info."

"Info?"

"Yes. Short for information."

Rachel clucks her tongue. Immediately regretting the action when the other girl glares at her.

"Are you going to help me or not?" Santana spits, uncomfortable for the amount of stares she's getting. "I have better things to do than talk to you."

The smaller girl seems shocked by the use of the word help, but gulps and nods anyway. Not exactly surprising she's scared. Santana could probably tear the girl apart with a single glare and smirk.

"I will assist in anyway I can, Santana."

She rolls her eyes, but tugs on Rachel's wrist towards the library. Nobody watches them. They all know better.

* * *

"Santana," Rachel says, voice laced with concern and uncertainty. "I'm not sure about this."

It only took about five minutes for Santana to realise that Miss Know-It-All Berry wasn't living up to her name, so she practically grabbed Rachel by her hair and dragged her towards Principal Figgin's office. Where they're now standing, riffling through the cabinet file (Santana's always been handy with a bobby pin) for New Girl's file.

"Well we wouldn't have to if you were actually useful."

Rachel's jaw muscles tighten visibly, despite her being crouched on the ground. "I don't appreciate you insulting me considering I'm doing you a favour."

"Just shut up and get on with it." Santana retorts. She knows she shouldn't be rude, and there's actually a little part of her that feels bad for the rudeness. But whatever. She'll get over it. It's only Berry.

"Got it." Rachel stands, grasping a file in her hand and slapping it onto Figgin's desk. "Now is that all you'll be needing?"

Santana lifts her eyes from the file, trying not to reach across immediately and grab the file. Patience definitely isn't a virtue, and ever since her meeting with New Girl, she has this weird craving to know as much as possible about her. The first time they ever met, the blonde had such a wide smile that managed to seep it's way into Santana's veins and made her want to fucking smile. Like _seriously. _No-one ever does that.

Even when she's being nice.

Ignoring Rachel, she takes a seat in Figgin's chair and flicks through the file. She takes in the small notes like _moved from Carmel, _and the girls name: _Brittany Pierce._ Her lips form the words, almost like she's mouthing them and her head nods in approval. Some people don't suit their name, but this girl seems like a Brittany. Strange.

After a few pages, she exhales loudly and slams her palm to her forehead. There's all these details about the girl. Where she's lived. The name of her parents. The name of her little sister (which she's noted and makes a point to ask Fernando again) and even what her expected grades are. But this information... This is all material and formal. This isn't going to help her get to know the girl. This is just going to make her seem like a piece of paper. Nothing more.

"This is pointless." She says, rubbing her forehead. "This only tell me factual shit."

Rachel raises a brow. "Well this _is _what you wanted."

"No. I wanted to know about _her. _What she's like. What she likes and dislikes."

"Then why don't you just talk to her?"

This conversation is getting way too intense considering she's talking to Rachel fucking Berry. Snapping her head up and narrowing her eyes, she says; "You think I'd come to you if I hadn't fucking _tried?_"

"I don't know. I mean, I don't talk to her in Glee club."

Santana blinks. "Well that's fucking useful, isn't it?" Sarcasm drips off her words.

"Well how about Kurt? He talks to her."

"As in gay boy Hummel?"

Rachel purses her lips in disapproval. "Considering your sexual orientation Santana, I don't see the need for you to point out his."

It shouldn't, but it kind of brings a lopsided smile onto her face. Quickly removing it, she replaces it with an aggressive, defensive shade to her eyes and glares at the other girl. Features hardened.

"What did you say Berry?"

The brunette ducks her head. "N-nothing."

"Good." Santana sorts the files again, shuffling until they're all in the order they were in the first place. "So it's Hummel I need to talk too?"

Rachel nods stiffly and heads for the door. But she pauses, gripping the door frame and turns, giving Santana a glance. "Not that you want to hear this, but I don't think she's into the whole high school fairytale cliché."

Santana crosses her arms and cocks her hip against the side of the cabinet. Apparently everyone seems to know what New Girl wants and all Santana knows is a door in the face and a bipolar like change in the stupid girl. And even though it's stupid because she's pretty sure she's jealous of this knowledge that everyone _but _her knows, she decides to bite on Rachel's bait.

"What do you mean?"

"The geek and the popular girl." Rachel explains, softness in her features. Santana kind of hates that Rachel has that. It makes the satisfaction of pushing the other girl into a lock decrease every time. "Getting together and living together happily ever after."

"And how would you know that?" Santana starts, stepping forward with sharpness in her tone. "I thought you didn't talk to her?"

"I don't. But from how she talks about her old school in Glee and how she talks about the similarities between the 'stupid jocks' and 'bitchy Cheerios' here, they're just uncanny." Rachel raises her hands defensively as Santana scowls at the _bitchy Cheerios _comment. "Her words not mine."

For someone who doesn't know much about New Girl, Rachel knows more than she leads on. It's stupid. Like really stupid. Santana is already jealous of something she doesn't have. How is that even fucking possible? Being possessive of something that isn't hers? _Jesus. _Things are just getting weirder and weirder, and the heaviness in the air is seriously unsettling. Especially when the jealousy includes Rachel fucking Berry.

Santana lifts her chin and smirks. She's nothing if not confident. "Yeah well, we'll see."

Rachel doesn't say anything more as she disappears out the room. There's something uncomfortable about the other girl's last expression imprinted on the forefront of Santana's mind.

* * *

Santana waits by her car, flicking and turning the keys in her hand as her eyes search for the flamboyance that is Kurt Hummel to glide down the school steps. She's been waiting here for about five minutes so far, and she's so impatient that it's practically multiplied. So it _feels _like she's been waiting here for about half an hour. Not to mention the fact that people are actually going to see her talking to _another _Glee kid.

There'll be some rumours soon.

She rolls her eyes at her thoughts, finishing just in time to see Kurt and his vibrant attire bounce down the stairs. Since Puck mauled the boy's car last week after an 'accidental' nudge of his accelerator (which sent Puck's mustang careering into the side of Kurt's mini) Kurt has to walk to and from school every day. Which in some ways has is advantages because now Santana can kindly offer him a lift home. Benefits of Lima being so small is that everyone only lives a few blocks away from each other, in most directions.

"Yo, Hummel."

Kurt turns slowly, eyes widening when they land on Santana. She can practically see the _why are you talking to me _etching it's way across his forehead, but ignores it because that'll probably end up in either an aggressive conversation... Or in other words, an argument.

"Can I help you, Santana?"

She narrows her eyes at the use of New Girl's words, but it kind of makes something sink inside her stomach when she repeats her own name. New Girl didn't use that. New Girl doesn't even like her and she doesn't know her fucking name. How is this fair? She's a bitch but everyone deserves a chance, right?

"Want a lift home?" She highlights her words by clicking the key fob over her shoulder.

The sound of her car unlocking just adds an extra effect and she throws in half a smile too. There's no way in hell Hummel will get in if she's got her signature bitch face on. In the back of her mind, she kind of wonders if that face was on when she talked to Brittany.

Kurt slides his eyes towards the car, then back again like he's trying to figure out where the catch is. "Why?"

"You live a few blocks from me." Santana reasons. "Plus I need to talk to you."

The boy's face drops considerably so.

"Look," she steps towards him warily and he shuffles away slightly. She'd be offended if she wasn't such a bitch. "Do you really think if I was planning on doing something to you, I would do it alone? Not to mention in an empty parking lot where no-one can see. That would be pointless." Her eyes slide around nervously and then back again. "And I'm a bitch, but not _that _much of a bitch."

It takes a long moment, but Kurt finally finishes his invasive bullshit detector and lets out a long sigh. She's kind of glad, because for the first time in years of being at this school, she just showed more vulnerability in the form of 11 words than she ever has done before. He steps around her and clambers into the passenger seat, shutting the door quickly like _he's _ashamed or embarrassed to be getting into her care. Maybe that's acceptable though. Sure to her, it's embarrassing to be seen with Hummel because of her reputation, but maybe there's some parallel Glee universe where it's the same for him.

"Okay then." She says to herself before rounding the car and sliding into the drivers seat.

Turning on the ignition, the low hum of Rihanna playing on the radio fills the silence and she's seriously thanking God that she remembered to unplug her iPod this morning .Because the playlist she had selected was filled with Adele and Lana Del Ray. And _seriously? _That would make her look like she had feelings. She has a cold, hard and bitchy reputation to uphold and having Kurt hear her choice of music would totally obliterate what years of hard work has created.

"Not that I'm not grateful for the lift, but what do you need to talk about, Santana?"

Quick to the punchline. Okay. "You're in Glee club, right?"

"What?" His eyes snap to her. "You-re not," he swallows. "You're not thinking of joining are you?"

"Oh dear God _no._" The words come out a little harsher than intended. That tone isn't going to help her situation. "No, I'm not. I just need some information."

"About Glee club?"

She tightens the grip on the steering wheel. Unsure about her nerves. "About something to do with it."

"What to do with it? Because if you're planning on sabotaging it for Coach Sue I'm not willing to he-"

The car pulls up at a red light and she cuts him off.

"No, Kurt. Look," she sighs. "Do you know Brittany Pierce?"

She ignores the slight jolt she gets in her stomach when the name rolls flawlessly off her tongue. Like it's supposed to be there. That's going to get annoying.

"Yes..." he trails off. This is probably as weird for him as it is for her. "You need information about her?"

Keeping her eyes straight ahead, intently focused on the red light, she nods. "I just want to know what she's like and what she likes. Not where she comes from and shit."

She leaves out that she already knows where Brittany comes from and all her background stuff. Because hello? Stalker? Kurt studies her curiously from the side, obviously not sure of her intentions.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because, why?"

Riffling through the lame lies inside her head, she finally settles on one. The least lamest of them all, but it's still pretty lame. "She's on my turf. Need to know what's up with her."

Kurt doesn't buy it. "And now the real reason?"

"Look," she sighs, pressing her forehead to the top of the steering wheels, hands either side. "Can you just tell me? The less you know, the better."

It's not entirely true, because the less that he knows, the more curious he'll get and the more he'll either question her, or someone else. But in her mind, which is fucked up in the first place, she kind of thinks the less he knows, the less he'll care. Or the less he knows, the less guilt he'll have to feel if anything goes wrong with her plan. Well, it's something along those lines anyway.

"You're not going to torture her or anything are you?" Kurt asks as the light turns green and Santana peels away from the junction. "Because Britt's like the nicest person I've ever met and no-one, and that includes your friends Quinn and Sugar, will take kindly to that. Britt's even managed to befriend them."

Santana tries not to snap her head to the side at the mention of her best friends' names and instead locks her eyes on the road. She doesn't want to ask the boy about the secret friendship between Quinn, Sugar and the New Girl because that'll just make her seem weak. The members of the pack spiralling off, leaving the alpha alone. _Not _good for her reputation.

"No, I'm not," she tries. Earning only a confused expression. "Going to torture her. I just want to know."

Kurt's eyes narrow. "Want or need?"

She can hear the way he's saying it. The way he's subtly asking is this business or pleasure, and she hates that. If she responds _need_, then it makes her seem like she's going to wait for the New Girl in the parking lot and egg the damn girl. But if she responds _want, _then it makes her that little more vulnerable. Not that she can ever imagine Hummel actually using that to his advantage. But still. It's about reputation, here.

But she settles on honesty instead. The further she gets from the school, the more the bitchy façade decreases. "Want."

"Then I'll help you," he smiles a genuine grin and then delves into the life of Brittany Pierce.


	3. Part Three

**Title: **Waiting On The World To Change [Part Three]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **4.4k

* * *

This is definitely a first.

It's Thursday, and Santana's standing outside the fucking Choir room, leaning against the wall like she belongs there. If it weren't for the several confused and slightly feared glances she's been receiving, she'd definitely know it wasn't her place from the way the wall digs a little too sharply into her back. Despite it being a flat surface. Even the friggin' wall doesn't like her.

All the Glee kids file out. The two Asians first, holding hands and staring adoringly at each other (Santana has a hard time holding in her stomach contents), then Kurt and Rachel go next, then it's Frankenteen who does that confused and dumb look that he's perfected so well (mostly because he always has that expression on his face) at her before walking down the hallway. Obviously Brittany's the last one to come out, so Santana taps her foot against the wall, ignoring the jabbing in her shoulder blades and waits out the several glances she receives.

Finally, when New Girl makes her appearance, she practically glides out the room with a flawless movement and straight past Santana. Almost so fast that Santana doesn't catch her before she's gone. Half-sprinting down the hallway, she catches up to the blonde and falls into a swift walk beside her, making sure to clear her throat in hope of catching the other girl's attention.

"New Girl," she says in lieu of a greeting.

She would use Brittany's name, but that'd just make her look creepy and kind of stalkerish. Not that she doesn't practically know Brittany's entire past already. But she (and Kurt and Berry) are the only ones who know that. In the back of her mind she wonders if she told them to keep it schtum. Plus, not to mention it's one of her things. If she calls Brittany _'New Girl'_ long enough, Brittany will soon correct her and then engage in a conversation which she can't back out of. Therefore leading as a victory for Santana.

Brittany turns her head briefly. "Uhm... Hi."

The blonde turns the corner quickly, darting between the students and Santana gazes a little at how quick and flawlessly Brittany moves through the crowd. Dancer, she supposes, before shaking her head and quickly catching up once more. Brittany's _fast._

"Aren't you going to ask who I am?" She asks, expectantly.

Because whilst she wants the girl to say no. Who _doesn't_ know Santana Lopez? Everyone should.

"I know who you are," Brittany replies bluntly, stopping at her locker to key in the combination and shove in her books.

Santana stops beside the locker, leaning on the one next to it with crossed arms. "Oh, really?"

"Yes." Brittany shut the door and finally turns to lock blue with brown. "You've been asking Kurt and Rachel about me."

Her mouth drops open to explain, but nothing comes out. She probably should feel embarrassed, and if she weren't in her own turf, or in bitch mode, she'd probably have blood rushing up to her cheeks. But she is her, and she fucking owns McKinley.  
Embarrassment or emotion is not something she shows whilst her ass is walking these halls.

"I was interested," she shrugs, licking her lips and trying to put on a seductive glare. "You're kinda hot."

Brittany's face completely contradicts the reaction she was hoping for. Pale features fall and blue eyes just stare at her blankly. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

For the first time, in like, _ever_, Santana feels her face grow hot underneath the girl's gaze. Usually even a greeting from her gets the girl to twirl around a lock of hair flirtatiously and flutter her eyelids. But New Girl isn't latching onto the bait. Instead, she's kinda stomping all over the attempt. Her arms tighten a little more around her own body and she watches blue eyes flicker down to the uncomfortable movement, suddenly feeling even more self conscious than before. It makes her kind of insecure that this New Girl, no different from any other new student that walks the halls of McKinley, can just come in, with a perfect ass and rack and one of the most angelic faces to ever walk this earth, and basically stamp all over Santana's confidence.

At McKinley, if you don't have confidence or sex appeal, you don't exist. Not that Brittany stepping on her attempt to flirt will ruin her reputation. Just her ability to be nice to the girl. For the first time in God knows how long, she's being nice to someone that isn't on the Cheerio Squad. And that includes most of her hook ups. She was never _this_ nice to them. All it took was a quick stroke of the cheek, or a wink, and the girls would be falling into Santana's bed... Or any available flat surface for that matter.

But Brittany's just dismissed her. Without even a second chance.

How is this fair again?

"Can I help you with anything else?"

Santana breaks from her thoughts and meets expectant blue eyes. She puts the seductive smile back on and decides to try again. She's nothing if not persistent. Lifting one hand, her feet shuffle closer and she leans into Brittany's personal space, inhaling the other girl's heavenly perfume and focusing on not sighing out heavily.

"Are you not interested in why I asked about you?"

"No," Brittany shakes her head and steps away. Obviously not effected by Santana's presence at all. "And next time if you want to know anything," there's an aggressive edge to the blonde girls tone and dark brow shoot up. "Ask me instead of other people, okay? It's _my_ life. Not their's."

With Brittany walking away, not even bothering to spare a glance back, Santana's left gob smacked and she can't figure out what's itching at the back of her mind.

Later that night she'll go to sleep wondering why she's so hooked up on the girl that keeps shooting her down. And she won't even realise that the answer she's looking for is in the question itself.

* * *

It's the next morning, and Santana persuades herself that one day her persistence will pay off.

So that's why she's leaning up against the side of her car, arms crossed, foot planted on the rim of the wheel as she waits for a baby blue VW to bumble into the parking lot. She figured out that it was New Girl's car when she saw the girl walk over there yesterday, and since then she's just been smiling to herself. Because her dad once said "_a persons car says a lot about them"_ and the individual, unique 1978 VW Bug definitely says something about Brittany.

Although the fleeting wonder of what her BMW says about her does pass through her mind quite a lot.

The car pulls in, swinging into a spot and the music humming out stops when Brittany climbs out the car. She's wearing black leggings, a short top and a pair of high heeled knee length boots that make her legs look longer than ever. Santana has to practically slap herself to stop staring.

Pasting on her HBIC smirk and holding her head high, she walks towards the baby blue car and leans against the side – trying her hardest not to focus on Brittany's ass as it's sticking in the air from her being bent over, top half of her body inside the car reaching for something in the back seat. She hears a few "_ows"_ and "_poos"_ and wonders if the blonde purposely doesn't swear because she has a younger sister. Her own mom told her not to swear because Fernando would pick up the bad habits, but she gave up after Fernando yelled "_fuck"_ as he stood on the kitchen counter and blamed it on her dad. That was pretty amusing.

"Okay, I take back the comment." Brittany pulls her head out the car to glare at Santana as she speaks. "You're _really_ hot."

Brittany scoffs, grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder. Kicking the door shut with her foot. "I'm so honoured you think that."

"Well you should be," Santana explains. "It's not everyday I tell people they're hot."

The other girl rolls her eyes and stops. Santana has to move to the right to ensure she doesn't run full on into the girl.

"You're kind of annoying, did you know that?" Brittany says, cocking a brow.

"Most girls dig it."

The blonde starts walking again. "Well I'm not most girls."

"I can tell," Santana says as she pursues the girl up the steps and into the corridor. Brittany doesn't response after that and Santana finds herself at a loss of conversation. There's something in the air between them, and whereas before she thought it was anger, she can totally feel the chemistry between them. It boosts her confidence once more. "Look, I just wanted to apologise for yesterday, and the day before."

"Why?" Brittany asks, lugging her backpack further up her shoulder. "What happened?"  
She almost laughs at the question. Seriously, most people remember their time with her. "It was rude of me to ask Berry and Hummel about you."

They arrive at Brittany's locker again and Santana resumes her position from yesterday whilst Brittany replies; "It was."

"I should've asked you straight out."

Brittany lets out a small hum, like she's pretending to care.

"So as an apology," Santana pushes off the side locker and steps closer, hand pressing over the back of Brittany's which lingers on a textbook to pause the movement. Blue eyes snaps to hers and then she continues. "I'd like to take you out for dinner."

Quicker than expected, Brittany whips her hand away and slams the locker shut. Several heads turn their way but Santana just grins. This chase is actually working out to be pretty fun. Even though yesterday she was feeling uneasy about the whole thing, today it's like she knows how much she's growing on Brittany. Talking of which, it's time to use tactic number one again.

"So, New Girl," she takes a step so her front is nearly pressing against Brittany's front and leans in, hand resting on the cool panel of the locker door above the other girls shoulder. She makes sure to exhale, and lick her lips directly in Brittany's view because God totally made her hot for a reason. "How about Breadstix? I pick you up at 8?"

The blonde girl's face twists into an unreadable expression a second before she slips out of Santana's grasp. "No, thank you, and I know what you're doing with the name thing. It's not going to work. You already know my name so I'm not going to correct you."

Santana smiles and rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on," she tries, turning so her back leans against the locker like Brittany's going to stay there. But of course, the blonde is already halfway down the hallway by the time Santana tries to look into her eyes. She's pretty glad that she's a Cheerio. Without Coach Sue's training, chasing Brittany around would be so much more exhausting.

The majority of the students have now disappeared from hallway, leaving Santana more ease as she sprints up towards the other girl and lurches in front, stopping Brittany from moving any further. If she weren't popular, the remaining people in the corridor that have been watching the exchange would probably think she were a stalker of some kind.

"Do you ever give up?" Brittany asks exasperatedly, eyebrows shooting up to meet her hairline.

Santana notices the shift in Brittany's eyes and grins. She's so getting to the girl. "Not until I get what I want."

"And let me guess, I'm what you want?"

Santana nods, smirking.

"Well I might as well save you all this trouble," Brittany lets out a small and very fake smile. "_This_," she points between the two. "This will never work. It won't happen."

Santana narrows her eyes. She'd never admit it, but something just sunk a little inside her chest. "And why is that?"

Brittany doesn't answer. Instead, she rolls her eyes, purses her lips and shrugs before walking down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

Santana can't help the smile that tugs at her lips and she cocks her head to the side quickly; like she just found out something interesting. In some ways, she kind of did. New Girl's got game; and this bet just got _so_ much more interesting.

* * *

Santana has a plan. Well, it's more like a list of things she does to get girls. Except she's never actually had to go to the lengths she is this time, because the girls she goes after seem to fall for her before the first, or second (in some non-blonde cases), are even complete. So with Brittany, when she has to cross off that the first method didn't work, the one where she pretended not to know the girl's name, she's all ready to whip out the second.

The second involves a few hours of intense research, or a couple of dollars to one of the Computer Club nerds to hack into the school system, where she finds out Brittany's timetable and then alters her lessons so that she can suddenly 'appear' in the girl's ones. Usually, she doesn't have to go much further than turn up in English with a book of romantic poems and nod at the teacher (whom she already gave a twenty to let her do this) to allow her to read out _La Vita Nuova_ by Dante Alighieri, the shortest most romantic few lines which seem to have girls begging at Santana's feet. If that doesn't work, she reads it out in Spanish and then that's it. She's got a girl bent over in the back seat of her car with sweat building over her forehead as she pumps in and out of a slick entrance.

However when uses trick number two on Brittany, it doesn't go as she hoped.

"Now, class," Mr Graham, the English teacher, stands at the front of the class, grasping the syllabus textbook in one hand and his thick rimmed glasses in the other. "If you turn to page one hundred an-"

"Uh, Mr Graham?" Santana lifts a hand and catches the teachers attention. Her eye slide to the right where they lock with brown and she sends a quick wink. "I have something I'd like to read out."

Shuffling nervously under her glare, he nods. She didn't even have to pay him. He's too much of a wimp now to do anything about it. Rumour has it, last time he went to Coach Sue to complain about her, he came out smelling a little fragrant than he went in. Apparently he didn't have time to go to the toilet and his prairie dogging went a little further than it was supposed too.

"Yes, Santana. Go ahead."

She stands, smoothing out the back of her Cheerios skirt and adding a little more sway to her hips as she saunters up to the front of the class. By now she has the damn poem memorized, so there's no need for the ratty book buried in the base of her bag. Following the same routine, she throws a quick seductive glance to Brittany, licks her lips and buffs out her chest a little. She knows how hot she looks and judging by the wide eyes and jaw drops, the class thinks so too.

"_In that book which is my memory..._"

Brittany arches a brow and rolls her eyes.

"_On the first page that is the chapter when I first met you..._"

Santana smirks, aiming it straight at the blonde, but Brittany just shuffles further back into the seat because a few of the students in the class have caught onto her plan and are now searching around the room for the person receiving the poem.

"_Appear the words, here begins a new life._"

It's short. But meaningful. It never mentions the L word, or any of that romantic crap, but it means so much more because it's lacking those specifics. She smiles, eyes flitting across the room to take in the expressions on the other students faces. They're impressed and smiling. Some are nodding. Most of the guys are staring at her chest. And Brittany is...

_Oh._

Whereas most girls (who are the subject in which the poem is aimed at) are usually swooning, clapping their hands together and looking at her lovingly because she just read out a romantic poem... Brittany's just sitting there near the back, arms crossed and face entirely unimpressed. Standing out from the rest of the room like a sore thumb.

"That was..." Mr Graham stands from behind his desk, the chair scratching along the floor. "Good, Miss Lopez. Now please take a seat and we'll continue with our lesson."

Confused, because this trick has never failed, she basically stalks back to her chair with a hunched back.. Seriously, that's like never happened. What the hell is going on?

She spends the rest of the lesson trying to ignore the way Brittany's ignoring her.

* * *

"My second trick didn't work," Santana whines as she kicks her legs up onto Quinn's coffee table.

Quinn breezes past, swiping her hand down to knock at tanned legs until feet clunk at the floor. "So use your third."

Even though she talks a game about having like a list of hundred things to do to get girls, she totally doesn't. Something about gaining rep or whatever. It makes her look better if she says she has loads of ways, because when people ask what the third way is, she can just wink and say never had to use it. Sounds pretty awesome when it's said out loud. Although now it sounds kind of lame.

"I don't have a third," she admits, scratching at her eyebrow to hide the embarrassment she feels.

Quinn lets out a laugh, and Santana's pretty sure she hears something along the lines of _"Puck so owes me twenty dollars"_ but she lets it past because she's seriously _not_ focused on that. She's still entirely stumped and entirely focused on what to do next.

"Forget about her then," the blonde suggests. "Move onto the next one."

Santana mulls over the question. She doesn't want to move onto the next one. It's not about emotions or anything sentimental, it's just that this is a challenge. One that she doesn't want to push past. One she doesn't want to fail at. Santana Lopez isn't a failure. She always completes everything. This isn't any different.

"I don't want too," Quinn shoots Santana a look at her words. "'Cause that'll go down as a loss."

The blonde narrows her eyes, unconvinced. "That's the only reason?"

Sensing where this is going, Santana straightens up, pushing up off the sofa and grabbing her bag from beside the arm. "Yeah." She crosses her arms once her backpack is over her shoulder. "Why? What else would it be?"

The challenge is present, and she's more than willing for Quinn to respond with something. But she knows the blonde won't. Quinn knows her well enough to know when to keep her mouth shut and when to answer. And this is definitely not one of those talking times. _Hell_, there's no way in hell she would have challenged Quinn if she actually thought a response would come.

"Nothing," Quinn shakes her head, breaking their eye contact.

Santana cocks her head to the side with a bubblegum smile then heads for the door. "Good. I'm going home now, Q. See you tomorrow."

She barely registers the small goodbye that shouts after her as she feels something swell inside her chest. Something she doesn't quit know or recognise. But she knows it's something she really doesn't like and she climbs into her car trying not to focus on how uneasy her stomach feels.

* * *

Sugar is the first to greet her when she climbs out her car. Which is strange because Quinn usually is. But whatever.

"Where's Q?"

She basically feels Sugar's eye roll, even though she doesn't actually see it because her eyes are scanning across the parking lot. "I don't know, she texted me earlier saying she'd meet us in tutor time because she was sorting something out."

Santana frowns with suspicion. But screw it. Quinn can do what she wants. "Right, well I guess we'll see her later."

"Yeah."

They walk up the school steps in silence. It's weird because even though they practically spend all their time together, Quinn or someone else is usually there. It's never just them alone. And what sucks most is that although she's always in bitch mode at school, there's something about Sugar that makes her feel bad when she's outwardly bitchy towards the girl. The only thing she can the guilt she feels when she lashes out at Sugar kind of relates to a mother-daughter relationship. Sugar's just quite... Childish at times. But not in the _"I could play with a piece of rope for hours kind of way"_. More in the _"I need someone to lead me kind of way"._

Weird. But Santana's never been one to delving into the philosophy of the world and everything included.

"Hey, Sugar?"

Sugar turns her head, revealing wide eyes sparkling with... excitement? For a split second Santana tries to remember the last time she actually addressed the girl by like, her name or whatever. Jesus, she's even a mega bitch to her supposed best friend. "Yeah?"

"How would you go about..." Santana lifts an eyebrow, trying to think of the right way to put what she's going to say. "Wooing someone?" She wants to smack herself in the head as soon as the word 'woo' comes out. Because _seriously_? Who even say that anymore?

Sugar stops mid-walk. "You're having trouble?" She asks like it's the most shocking thing in the entire world.

"What are you doing?" Santana hisses, because Sugar's standing like smack bang in the middle of the hallway and not being quiet.

She doesn't want everyone knowing she's having trouble seducing someone. That'll like turn the universe upside down or start spinning it the other way or something and then all hell will break loose. The day Santana fucking Lopez can't get a date is the day Quinn starts dating Berry Big Nose. She with holds the scoff by biting her tongue.

"Is Brittany not _interested_?" Sugar says, brows furrowing further and further as the words come out.

Santana's eyes flutter around, glaring at anyone who even dare to look at them. But to be honest, if she weren't in bitch mode she'd be embarrassed. Why in the _hell_ is Sugar just standing there saying all these things!

"Keep walking, Sugar. Don't just fucking stand there."

Sugar shakes her head like she's shaking herself from a daze and starts up again, quickening her step to catch up with Santana who decided to start a second before she did. "Why don't you like, read out a poem or something?"

"I've done that," Santana admits, trying to figure out where the hell it went wrong. Maybe she should've used another poem...

"Have you done your name calling thing?"

"Yes, she called me out on that one."

Sugar's eyebrows meet her hairline. "Wow. Well I've got an idea."

This time it's Santana who stops, but she stands with her neck straight and head strong because that doesn't attract attention. Standing in the centre with a disbelieving gaze and a wide open mouth does.

"What is it?"

"Offer sex," Sugar grins. "Just go straight for it. No need to beat around the bush."

Santana laughs. Because why would she ask Sugar about doing this? Sure, she may act like a nine year old most of the time with her blunt comments and lack of awareness for people's feelings (something she likes to call Asperger's), but her actions totally say otherwise. That guy from the parking lot yesterday, Jason or Jackson or whatever his name is.

"Yeah, I'll just do that." Sarcasm drips off her tone and she tries not to roll her eyes again. "Anyway, are you going Puckerman's tonight?"

Sugar nods. "Yeah, Jason's taking me. You should ask Brittany."

"No." The answer comes out so fast she has to do a double take in her mind and debate whether she actually shouted it or said it. Sugar doesn't snap her head around though, so she just continues. "Not into dating."

Sugar doesn't turn to face her, but she pulls this face that Santana's only seen twice before. Bullshit expression, she would call it. Whenever a major lie is told, and Sugar picks up on it, that face comes on.

There was once when Quinn pretended Puck didn't get _seriously_ hot when he walked into school with a mohawk, arms that flexed and rippled with tanned skin and toned muscles and a smile to die for. And the other time was when Santana got the Head Cheerio spot and shrugged it off like it was nothing, feigning disinterest; when really inside she was practically throwing a fucking celebration for herself.

And now, with Sugar looking at her with the exact same expression. One eyebrow bowing down, one side of her lips pinched up and eyes narrowed like she knows something... Santana really _doesn't_ like it.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Santana asks anyway; even though half of her is pretty damn sure she knows the answer. The other half just rules her though. Bitch mode, she thinks.

Sugar sighs and straightens out her features. "Nothing," she smiles a little too wide.

Santana just nods gently, then turns to walk to class. Except Sugar calling her name stops her movement and she throws the other girl a look over her shoulder that just says "_what?"_ for her.

"If you like her, then try and not be this you." Sugar sucks in her lips, offers a half-smile and then disappears before Santana can reply.

She has no fucking clue what just happened.


	4. Part Four

**Title: **Waiting On The World To Change [Part Four]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **4.8k

* * *

Quinn not being school is really weird for more than one reason.

Quinn _never _misses a day at school, not even when she's like ridiculously ill. Once she even turned up to school with a dripping nose, red eyes and a cough that sounded like her lungs were about to make an appearance. It's not because she likes school - even though Santana kind of thinks it is - it's just because Quinn has big ass plans to start her own law firm and she needs the grades for it. Any day off school will effect her overall GPA and apparently Quinn doesn't want that. Not to mention it doesn't matter whether she turns up to school friggin' _puking _her guts up. Everyone still fears her and anyone who gives her a funny look basically ends up with either a broken nose or the need for new underwear.

Santana kind of likes when Quinn comes into school ill.

The second reason is that today is Friday. Which means Coach Sue's mandatory practise (despite Coach not actually being there. There are several theories to where she goes every Friday for two hours; some ranging from a meeting with that TV anchor guy at the motel just down the highway, and some going to the extremes of sky diving.

Apparently a Freshman saw Sue at the airstrip just outside Ohio) but yeah, it's still mandatory none the less. It includes like a billion wind sprints and so many crunches that the majority of the Cheerios have a hard time breathing for the next four days. But Quinn, Sugar and Santana run that shit; which means they sit there, filing their nails and trading gossip about who's sleeping with who, whilst gaining slight entertainment from the sound of the Squad aching muscles and strained movements.

So with Quinn not here, they just sit at the table with a vacant seat to Santana's left and the whispers of the Squad asking where the "_other bitch" _is. Any other day she'd lash out, but her mind is too cluttered with thoughts of that stupid New Girl, Sugar's mysterious riddles that are toying with her thoughts and making her feeling _more _than uncomfortable and last but not least, where the hell Quinn could be that's more important than this practise.. There's _nothing _that could possibly exist in place. Not to Quinn anyway.

"S-S-S-Sa-tana?" A voice pipes up. One of the Freshman on the squad who obvious drew the short straw judging by her very _Oliver_-esque stance. Nervous disposition and face so pale the girl could possibly pass for a ghost.

Santana arches a brow, turning bitch mode up to _mega-bitch _mode. "What?" She hisses through clenched teeth, still uneasy without Quinn by her side.

Only because she knows for damn sure that Sugar wouldn't step in if the squad planned some massive revolt and attacked her all at once; with Quinn at least she'd have a fighting chance. Not that they'd do that anyway. Being a Cheerio is like being at the head of the social stack, and no girl, when she succeeds the gruelling initiation and training, would ever want to go back to normality. That shit just wouldn't work. So attacking the Head Cheerio would probably _not _be the best idea.

The younger girl shuffles nervously, wringing her wrists in front of her like she's clutching an invisible towel. "T-the Squad w-was w-w-wondering where Q-Q-Quinn is t-today?"

"We don't actu-"

"Busy." Santana cuts Sugar off. God knows what was about to come out of her mouth. "Not that it's any of your business, _anyway._"

"Y-yes, S-Santana," the younger girl stutters before spinning on her heel and half-sprinting back across the gym to the rest of the squad sitting in a huddled circle. Santana thinks that's some strange ass protection method.

Sugar doesn't change her expression, just settles back further into the seat and Santana brings the megaphone to her lips, deciding that the sounds of two hundred wind sprints and crunches would be enough to satisfy the uncomfortable feeling creeping up her spine (that for some reasons decides to multiply every day she pulls into the parking lot.)

* * *

After sitting in her car for about ten minutes, flicking through her iPod and trying to find the right song to fit her mood, she somehow comes up with the idea that going to find Quinn herself is a good idea. It isn't, because the several times Sugar _and _Santana have text and rang her have all been bypassed, kind of proves that in itself. But whatever, she isn't scared of Quinn. Quinn may be a bitch, but Santana can top her anyway if she wanted too.

She pulls up outside the Fabray household, throwing her BMW into park and taps along the edge of her steering wheel. The house seems pretty quiet. No flickerings of the TV reflecting in the windows, no lights on and the damn curtains aren't even open yet; not even in Quinn's room which is above the living room. Judy and Russell are out judging by the lack of cars in the driveway, and it dawns on Santana that she's almost hesitant to go in.

But whatever. If Quinn's in a huff, she has to get over it at some point. Even if she uses Santana as a verbal punching bag.

So Santana does what she always does. Opens the front door, throws her bag down to the right and kicks her sneakers off. Except whereas this is usually the part where she throws herself down on the sofa because like, she should probably have her own key she's here that often, Quinn isn't in the living room. Or in the kitchen. Or even downstairs for that matter.

"Quinn?" Santana speaks warily, like she's afraid the other girl will jump out and scare her. "Where are you?"

A few shuffling sounds come from the back of the house, halting her movement as she stands in front of the coffee table. As far as Santana knows, there are only two places back there; the garden or the laundry room. And Quinn doing the laundry is almost as believable as watching pigs fly. Glancing around to check for signs of a break in or whatever – because frankly this is friggin' weird - Santana glides through the house silently, listening as the noises heighten in volume as she gets closer and closer to the back door. Her hand reaches for the knob at the same time her neck cranes to peer out the small windows panes in the door, but all she sees is the patio and-

"What are you doing here?"

Startled, Santana turns, pressing her hand to her chest like it's going to calm her racing heart. "Shit, Fabray," she half pants. "Why you creepin' up on me?"

"You're in _my _house," Quinn deadpans, crossing her arms.

Santana's about to come back with something witty when she takes notice of the other girl's attire. Quinn's wearing baggy, grey sweatpants, folded once along the hip as they drag a little on the floor, and a low, scoop neck black t-shirt with a small brown hoodie over her shoulders. In all the time Santana's known the blonde girl, she's pretty sure she's never seen Quinn look _this _bad. Dark, sullen eyes and thinning skin that tightens around her cheekbones. Her usually bright hazel eyes look tired and worn, like she's barely slept for the past three days.

And Santana being Santana, she doesn't even try to save Quinn's feelings. She's not one for being sentimental around people who _aren't _her family, alright?

"Shit," her eyes linger down the other girl's body. "What the fuck happened to you?"

If Quinn's surprised by her words, she doesn't show it. "Bad day," the blonde replies, turning to walk back towards the kitchen.

"Day? Sure it hasn't been a week?"

"Back off, Lopez. I'm not in the mood."

Santana restrains the _really Einstein?_ crawling up her throat. "So are you going to answer my question?"

Quinn throws herself down on the sofa when she gets there; kicking her legs up onto the table. "What question?" She grumbles; her voice barely even audible as she buries her chin into the top of her t-shirt.

Brown eyes roll as Santana makes her way around to stand directly in front of Quinn; just behind the coffee table in case psycho blonde makes an appearance. Every now and then it's known fact that Quinn has a psychotic bitch fit and lashes out at anyone and anyone. Santana included. But since when has she ever cared?

"Why the _fuck _do you look like someone just told you Ryan Reynolds died?"

"Don't wanna talk about it."

Santana steps closer, lifting her leg to nudge at the other girl's leg on the table top. "Talk, bitch."

"I don't _want _to talk about it," Quinn's voice is a little harder this time.

"I didn't ask if you _wanted _to talk about it."

Quinn lets out a noise that sounds half like a huff and half like sad sigh, but Santana doesn't say anything. Neither of them have ever done this emotional, girly crap and whether the blonde looks like someone just dragged her through a hedge backwards or not, they sure as hell aren't going to start.

"Fucking spit it out, Q." she half-hisses. "I don't have all day."

"I just..." Quinn breathes out, the words trailing off and getting lost in the air surrounding them. Usually the blonde doesn't speak with much meaning in her tone, but this time, it almost surprises Santana to hear just how heavy and emotional it is. How the simplicity of trailing off can speak volumes that words can't. "I had a fight with Puck last night."

Santana doesn't respond. Just narrows her eyes and presses her lips together into a thin line. There's no way in hell Quinn would look like _this _over Noah fucking Puckerman. Sure, they're 'dating' or whatever, but she's known the blonde for long enough to have the ability to call bullshit. Except as her mouth drops open to do just that, hazel eyes flicker her way and she can see something distinctly vulnerable; and it makes her falter - almost to the point where she switches out of bitch mode.

_No, _she thinks. They don't do this. They'll _never _do this. But there's still that part inside of her (the part which doesn't shove Rachel Berry into a locker) that makes her want to sit down, listen and offer a shoulder to cry on.

So deciding that maybe not being a bitch for like half a second wouldn't hurt that much, she sinks down next to her friend and reaches over tentatively. "Look, Q-"

"Don't," the blonde cuts in; abruptly standing from the sofa and crossing her arms defensively. "I need to shower, and I don't want to talk about it. So you should go."

"But Qui-"

"Just leave, Santana."

She lets out a sigh and tries to act nonchalant. "Look, Q, if you want to talk about like, emotional shit then-"

"Oh as _if," _Quinn scoffs loudly, throwing her head back in an amused manner. "It's not even like you know anything about feelings or relationships. You just fuck your way through the school and never even stop to think about people's feelings. So don't give me the _we can talk about feelings _bullshit, Santana. You know _fuck all _about them."

Santana just stares blankly, wondering what the hell could have effected her friend this much to have _that _said. But feeling her defences ache with severe wounds (which sounds melodramatic but to even _think _about switching out of bitch mode is a big thing for her; so to _actually _come out of it and try to be nice is like Empire fucking State Building big) she chooses to do as she's told for once, and stands from her seat. She can feel herself hurt with the words stinging around the room; and can _almost _see the regret flashing behind green eyes.

It's not like she's oblivious to the fact that she's probably screwed all the decent chicks in the school (some not so decent but alcohol help, okay?) and never had a long term girlfriend or whatever; it's just that having it said out loud by one of the people she thought she could trust the most kind of sucks ass. Like _big time. _Especially considering Quinn's usually the one urging on the whole _who you going to sleep with next? _and stupid ass bets which obviously she ends up winning every time.

She kind of wants to say how much of a hypocrite Quinn is; except she can't because Quinn actually _isn't. _So instead, she heads towards the door, ignoring the hurt of her friend's words and gathers her things; not even bothering to say goodbye as she slams the door behind her.

If Quinn wants to be a cold, hard bitch then she can be. Santana's not going to stress about it.

* * *

The funny thing about Lima is that Santana can barely turn down an aisle in the 7/11 before she runs into someone she knows. It's not actually funny. In some ways it's really _fucking _annoying for someone who wants alone time; but Lima is Lima. Complaining and whining like a bitch over it won't change a thing. _Jesus, _she thinks; sometimes she surprises herself at how cold she's gotten over the past few years. Even her thoughts are bitter and bitchy.

Anyway, she runs into Puckerman and for a split second she thinks about punching him for doing whatever the fuck he's done to Quinn. But then words snap into her mind and she decides against it. Like the blonde said; she doesn't do feelings. So why should she care what douche bags do to piss off her best friend?

"Yo, Lopez."

She rolls her eyes at the sound of Puck jogging up behind her' but continues walking anyway. "Yes, Puckerman?"

"Hey," he tugs on her elbow and she stops, turns and glares. "Keep the bitch fit down. I just want to talk."

Shuffling her basket onto the other arm (because she's pretty sure the blood circulation just cut off due to the four bottles of Gatorade in there) she lets out a heavier than necessary sigh – making sure it sounds annoyed – and says; "Well spit it out then."

Puck retracts his hand, knowing it's a wise move and digs both into his pockets. "Have you seen Quinn today?"

Anger flares inside of her at the mention of the blondes name. "No," she grits out, starting the pace again as she looks for Cool Ranch Doritos. Coach is probably going to kill her but she's in a bad mood so as far as she's concerned, Coach can go fuck herself. Puck follows slowly, a step behind her like he's sensed the shitty atmosphere and decided to stay as far away as he can without it seeming like she smells bad or something.

"She wouldn't want to talk to you anyway, though."

Puck stops, cocks his head and pulls his brows together, confused. "What?"

"You two had a fight," Santana reiterates even though it totally pisses her off more. She reaches out for the blue packet and throws two into her basket. "And pissed her off or whatever."

"When did we have a fight?"

Santana shrugs as she begins the walk to the check outs. She really _doesn't _care about Quinn and Puck's domestic problems. "I don't know, like last night or something."

"I haven't even talked to her since school."

Stopping to lift her basket onto the check out, she snaps her head around and narrows her eyes at the boy. "As in yesterday?"

Puck nods, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. "Yeah, we were walking to my car, 'bout to head home to fuck when she like freaked out 'cause someone walked past us. I didn't even see who it was before she slapped me in the arm and stormed off."

Suspicion creeps through Santana's veins as she slowly unloads her incredibly unhealthy basket of snacks. "Well you did _something,_" she tries, knowing Quinn wouldn't lash out to that extreme for nothing. Sure, she'd lash out. But aiming straight for Santana's vulnerable points _knowing _the damage she'd do? No way. "She threw another bitch fit at me; and this time it was like _the _worst. Not to mention the state she was in. Seriously, Puckerman. Whatever you've done you need to sort it."

"Well I haven't talked to her," Puck shrugs with actual confusion. "But I'll go and visit her. See if I can do anything."

Santana rolls her eyes knowing that _seeing if he can do anything _actually translates into _make up sex. _She practically saw his body lurch when she said that he'd pissed Quinn off. Not to mention the complete lack of genuine concern in his tone after the announcement. If there's a chance for the _"best sex he's ever had"_ as he's liked to mention on _several occasions_ when it comes to make-up sex, he'll be there. No matter what it takes.

"I don't even think she'll open the front door to you, Puckerman. Let alone let her into your pants."

"You don't know that," Puck says as she hands over a twenty to the cashier who stares at her strangely for the sentence she just said. "Can I help you?" She hisses at the young guy, who looks startled and gets back to ringing up her items quickly.

She thinks she hears something along the lines of _"and you said Quinn was in a bad mood" _muttered underneath Puck's breath, but she just shakes off the growing frustration and resumes packing her items into a brown paper bag. When she finishes, she tucks it underneath her arm, propping it against her hip and turns back to Puck.

"Look, just do what you have to do. Screw her, buy her chocolates, take her to the fucking movies. I don't care. Just make sure she gets out of that pissy-ass mood before I knock her pretty face into next week."

Puck's eyes widen; but he's smart enough to know not to question her threat. "Okay."

"Good," she cocks a brow and turns on her heels, heading towards the exit. "See you at school."

* * *

She almost laughs when she drives down the road and sees Brittany pulled up on the curb; the bonnet of her baby blue Volkswagen Beetle pried open and clouds of smoke steaming from it. She licks her lip, clicks down the indicator with her hand and pulls over; pulling up just behind the blondes car.

Brittany doesn't look up from where she's bent over inside the bonnet; half her body disappearing amongst the machinery and half of it dangling out. Santana tilts her head to the side quickly and admires the way that even when the other girl's doing something very _ungraceful,_ she still looks so damn good. Her leg is raised behind her in what Santana can only assume to be some type of ballet position (an arabesque or whatever) and her other foot planted firmly onto the concrete. Which she now realises is kind of covered in liquid that's seeping out from underneath the car.

"Piece of crap!" She hears as she clambers out her car, smoothing down the back of her Cheerio's uniform and heads towards the front of the car. "Why won't you just work!"

Santana doesn't hold in the chuckle; and almost instantly Brittany snaps her head up. Santana sees it before it happens and reaches out, covering the inside of the bonnet where Brittany would hit her head and slowly ushers the blonde head of hair out – making sure not to hit anything on the way out. Her hands tremble when she takes notice of how smooth Brittany's hair is... Even when it's tied into a high ponytail and several locks are just dangling out in a distressed manner.

"Mind your head," Santana whispers when Brittany straightens fully. "Don't want to have to take you to the ER room."

Brittany's eyes narrow when she notices it's Santana. "Thanks," she says flatly; almost like she doesn't want to be saying it.

Santana cocks a brow, intrigued. Every conversation she and this girl have just makes her want to know more and more. "That's cool," she says, shrugging. Her eyes lock onto the smoking engine and her upper lip curls. "So what's wrong?"

"My car broke down, _obviously,_" the blonde spits as she wipes away the grease marks on her hands with what Santana assumes was her cardigan. Considering that Brittany's standing in a short, black mini-skirt and a rather flimsy top that hangs off the shoulder, she must be a little chilly with this weather. Santana's cold and she's in a standard Cheerios jacket with fur lining in the hood.

"I can see that," Santana retorts, backing away to her car and reaching inside the window to grab the sweatshirt she carries around _just in case._

Her mother always gives her stuff to put in the car. Hence why she has a foil blanket, 2 litres of bottled water and a map of Ohio in her boot. She returns to the front of the car and peers at the engine. Almost instantly she can tell it's the radiator that's overheating; judging by the bright pink liquid spraying from the engine coolant pipe.

"Your radiator's overheated," Santana says as she pushes the sweatshirt into Brittany's hand and rolls up the sleeves of her jacket until the arms are bunched around her elbows. "Let me just get this..."

She doesn't even notice when Brittany stares at her, half confused and half pissed that she's not even bothering to ask for permission. Santana twists the cap slowly, releasing the spraying liquid and waiting till it slows down. After about three seconds, the spray stops and she throws her hand behind her muttering _"gimme something to wipe this away"_ and retracts when a fabric is pushed into her palm. She looks at it quickly; wondering how expensive Brittany's cardigan was and noting the American Apparel tag on the rim of the collar before dabbing at the hot liquid dripping down the side of the tube.

"Now we just need some water," she says as she pulls out the bonnet, hooking the cardigan over the lip of it and heads towards the back of her own car.

Grabbing the bottle of water, and one of the many rags she has there (don't ask, it's all her mom) she returns to Brittany's bonnet; ignoring the blatant stare she's receiving and begins to work again. It only takes about five minutes for her to do what she needs too (or what her dad taught her to do back at the end of Sophomore year when her BMW broke down on the highway) which includes pouring cool water into the tube and making sure no excess drips down the side (because hello? Rust?) and then she ducks out from underneath the bonnet with a satisfied smile.

"There you go."

Wiping her hands on the cleanest of the two rags, she turns back to Brittany and notices the sudden examination she's under. Almost instinctively, her back straightens and lesser version of her bitch smirk tugs at her lips as she spots her sweatshirt still hanging off Brittany's arm. The smirk fades but her heartbeat begins to race and throat thicken.

"You know I didn't just give you that too hold," she nods to the sweatshirt.

"Why did you give it to me then?" Brittany asks; her tone almost resembling that of which Santana heard when they first met outside Fernando's school as she looks at the clothing like it's an alien.

Santana shrugs; suddenly aware of how _nice _that gesture was. _Shit, _she thinks. What the hell was she doing? Why did she even pull over in the first fucking place?

"You looked cold," she shrugs again. Seriously, she is _not _playing this cool.

"Right..." Brittany draws out the word, eyes narrowing further and lips pressing into a thin line.

Santana shuffles under her gaze and leans back, realizing the reason she was here in the first place. Right, the car.

"Anyway," she turns and unclips the metal rod keeping the bonnet up, slotting it back into the little holder with one hand, the other grasping the edge of the bonnet. "Your radiator was overheating so I put some water in it," she slams the bonnet down; pressing her palms to it to make sure it's back in place before facing Brittany again. "You'll need to wait for about five minutes before you can drive but it'll get you home."

Brittany arches a brow; and Santana panics. She's _not _supposed to know where the blonde lives. Even if it's like right next to the grocery store and approximately four blocks away from her own house. She almost slaps herself in the forehead from her thoughts. Seriously, this girl is like fucking with her head.

"Assuming you live within a fifteen mile radius," she adds; hoping that's enough to convince Brittany. "That's as long as it'll last for before your engine basically explodes."

But Brittany just stares. Eyes narrowing even further; which Santana didn't think was possible considering their already cat-like shape. But whatever, it's not like she cares or anything. She gets stared at everyday, receiving judgemental, bitchy, and sometimes just plain curious looks – so it's not like she cares that she's getting one now. Even if it does kind of make her want to ask _"what?"_ or wipe at her face in case something's on there. Self-consciousness is a bitch.

Wait, why does she even care if she's got something on her face? She's Santana fucking Lopez. She could work running mascara like a fucking model.

"Okay," Brittany breaks Santana's from her thoughts. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Santana says; turning away just in time to hide her incredulous expression. _You're welcome? _What the fuck was that? It makes her sound like she actually _wanted _to help.

"You know, you're a lot nicer out of school than you are in."

Santana spins around, trying to conceal her internal panic. "No, I'm not."

Brittany steps closer, tilting her head to the side. "Yes, you are."

She tries to ignore it, but it's like an irritating itch than won't go and she suddenly feels the need to dive into a black hole and cover herself up. There's something innately worrying about the way Brittany looks at her; like she _knows _about her double life and different personalities.

"No," she says more firmly. "I'm fucking not." Her voice is louder now; almost like she's yelling and she feels her face take over and twist into a bitchy expression; eyebrows up by her hairline and face expectant. "Okay?"

Brittany's face falters for a split second before returning to the blank cover it had before this conversation. Santana feels guilt peel at her brain and inwardly wishes that she could take back her tone. It was unnecessary, and stupid. There was no need when she really thinks about. But it's just like innate now. Sometimes she really hates herself.

"Fine." Brittany rounds the car, jumps into the drivers seat and turns the ignition on. She revs the car about three times, _loudly, _and Santana takes this as her cue to get out the way.

If she weren't such a bitch she'd smile apologetically and see if Brittany reacted; she'd act a little more like herself (the out of school version and see how the blonde reacted to that. But she _is _a bitch, and no girl, no matter how beautiful and gorgeous she is, will ever change that. Santana Lopez doesn't change for anyone.

And New Girl or not; that's how it's going to be.

"Whatever," she huffs out, storming away towards her car and hopping in. As soon as she slams the door shut, she watches Brittany speed off with comical steam blowing out the exhaust and lets her head fall back onto the headrest.

This bet is just getting fucking stupid.


	5. Part Five

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Five]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **5k

* * *

Santana sits on her bed, scrolling through the mindless Facebook posts of people she won't know this time last year. She sighs a deep breath of relief when that thought passes through her mind. As soon as that piece of paper saying she's graduated is pressed into her palm; she can jump in her car and get the hell out of this shit hole.

Her dream's aren't exactly huge, and she knows that. She'll go to New York or Chicago or somewhere like that; attend Law school or join the Police Academy and kick some ass. Obviously she'll miss her family, they're like a _major _part of her life, but she needs to get out of here. Living a double life isn't healthy and the sooner she can be the person she wants; the better.

"_Heard you were a wild one, wild one..."_

Santana snaps her head down to her phone, buzzing on top of her comforter. She arches a brow, taking her hand away from the touch-pad to tilt her phone and see _Sugar Motta _come up on the screen. Suspicion and concern pulses through her and she looks around the room to find her Cheerio's folder. Did she take Sugar's?

She answers answer, sliding the green bar across and bringing the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"_Hey, Santana. It's Sugar."_

Santana's eyes flicker from left to right. This is already an uncomfortable phone call and they've barely said a sentence to each other. "Yeah, I know. Caller ID. What's up?" Her mouth drops open incredulously and she smacks her palm to her forehead. Being at home whilst on the phone is _not _a good idea. The nice side of her is showing already. _Fuck._

"_I was just calling to talk to you about Brittany."_

She's pretty sure her heart just skipped a beat. "Uh," she gulps, loudly. "Right..."

"_I was tweeting her earlier and she said that you pissed her off."_

Santana rolls her eyes. _Great, _she thinks. Now everyone can fucking see how much of a bitch she's being to the New Girl. Even if she isn't actually, but they know her as a bitch so obviously they'd jump straight to the conclusion that she's giving Brittany shit. Then it pops into her mind that Sugar was tweeting Brittany, and there's the fleeting wonder of how close Sugar is to the girl.

"_Santana? Are you still there?"_

Santana shakes her head and manages to summon a reply; "It's not like I meant too; and in all fairness, she did ask for it."

Sugar breathes out deeply down the line. _"I thought you were going to be nice to her?"_

Her head jerks back quickly as she tucks one leg underneath her ass. "I never said that," her tone is sharper, and she knows that this conversation needs to come to an end soon. It would be fucking _awful _if Fernando or her mom came knocking on the door and she had to be nice. Sugar would totally bring that up.

"_Okay," _Sugar's given up judging by her tone. Santana breathes out a sigh of relief. "_So are you coming to Puckerman's tonight?"_

_Shit, _she completely forgot. She glances down to her flannel pyjama pants and then around the room. It's only 7pm and she's in her friggin' PJ's. How humiliating. She likes to think it has nothing to do with the horrible mood she's in thanks to that stupid fucking New Girl; but a creepy itch in the pit of her stomach says different. This is ridiculous. How can someone already be having this much of an effect on her? She doesn't even like the fucking girl.

"Uh, nah." She shakes her head, even though only she can see it. "I think I'm going to give this one a miss."

"_You sure?"_

"Yeah," Santana fakes a yawn, stretching her free arm above herself and back down to the comforter. "My throat hurts too. Think I'm coming down with something."

"_Okay, Santana." _Sugar says in the same way she'd call _bullshit. "I'll see you tomorrow?"_

"Sure, Sugar. See you tomorrow."

Santana hangs up the phone and throws it onto the floor, before throwing herself back onto the bed. She stares at the ceiling for the next half an hour whether or not Brittany's going to Puckerman's. When she feels the first curl of jealousy wind around her stomach at the thought of someone hitting on the blonde; she sits up fast and shakes her head furiously.

It's only because she called shotgun first, though. That's it.

* * *

Quinn's not at school again the next morning. But unlike yesterday, when she pulls into her parking space, it's not Sugar that greets her. In fact, it's not anyone that she ever imagined would even think to come here with the knowledge that they could get their ass kicked.

"Santana," Rachel says, cheerily as she shrugs her back pack up her shoulder. "Good morning."

Santana climbs out her car, sliding the keys out the ignition and throws the door shut. "What are you doing?" She asks, lips curling like she's disgusted by the other girl's presence.

"I'm greeting you..." Rachel's face scrunches like she's confused and it almost makes Santana want to laugh. _Jesus, _what's happening to her? She wants to _legitimately _laugh at Rachel fucking Berry. What is the world coming too?

"Why?" She round the car, opens the boot and grabs her Cheerio duffel, lugging it over her shoulder. "Can you just like, go away hobbit?"

By now, there are several people staring at the interaction around the parking lot, and Santana can feel her collar getting hotter with the observation. The Jock crew over in the far right hand corner have actually _stopped _throwing a few of the Gleeks into the trash bin to watch; and Santana knows the whispers are going to come soon after.

"I was just wanting to enquire about Quinn's absence." Santana presses the lock on her key fob and moves away from the other girl quickly. But Rachel catches up and continues; "Have you seen her?"

"I saw her yesterday, look–" Santana rushes out quickly before stopping, stepping to the left to avoid Rachel crashing into her and muttering something like _"watch out you'll damage my talent" _and glares at the girl. "-Just because I asked you for help doesn't mean I want to be friends with you, or have _anything _to do with you for that matter, bait girl. Especially considering you told Brittany that I was asking after her."

Rachel's eyes widen, mouth dropping into an apologetic expression. "San-"

"No," Santana cuts her off, buffing out her chest and squaring her shoulders. "Don't even think about saying my name," she arches a brow; knowing people are still watching her and loving how intimidating she can get. "Now scuttle off before I kick your ass to Australia where you can find your other dwarf aborigines. ¿_Comprende_?"

The other girl nods with watery eyes, bites on her bottom lip to with hold the tears and practically sprints away from Santana. She would feel guilty; well, she _does _feel guilty, but she's not going to show it. Instead, she lifts her chin, smirks HBIC style and slides her thumb underneath the strap of her duffel bag before heading inside.

She doesn't even think about why Rachel was asking about Quinn's absence.

* * *

History is literally one of the most boring classes in the entire world. Sometimes Santana actually thinks the purpose of it is so that by the time the bell rings and lesson finishes, history has been reborn because it felt like it lasted for _millions and millions of years._

Except obviously that's not true, but whatever.

Bottom line is the hour with Miss Yolanda drags on for what feels like a century.

"So what did you say to her?" Sugar asks, plopping down in the vacant seat next to Santana.

They sit at the back, nearest the window so Santana can just day dream and not actually give a crap about who destroyed the Weimar republic and whether or not Hitler was actually getting to something with his plan to replace the entire population with the Aryan race. She almost smirks at herself then. She is fond of blonde hair and blue eyes, recently.

"I didn't really say all that much," she shrugs as much as she can whilst hunched over her notepad, tapping her pen lid on the paper repeatedly.

Sugar rolls her eyes, takes out her history textbook and flicks it open so it looks like they're doing something. "Well run me through it."

Santana rests back in her chair, crossing her arms and lets out a deep sigh. "She pretended like she knew me," she says quietly.

"How?"

Running her tongue along her the back of her teeth, she looks around the class and tries to figure out why she's feeling so uncomfortable about this. It could be because Brittany actually had it pretty spot on. It could be because Sugar's already made a few comments about Santana _not being herself _or whatever. Or it could even be because she's fed up of people pretending to know her when they actually know fuck all.

Whatever it is, she doesn't like it.

"She just said that..." Santana trails off, licking her lips and ducking towards the other girl to finish her sentence; "I was different out of school."

Sugar nods along casually, like Santana didn't just kind of reveal a secret.

"Why are you just nodding like that?"

"You _are _different out of school..." Sugar replies, confused.

Fear spikes through Santana and she feels her entire body tense. She's pretty sure she's not breathing, but she knows she needs to keep this cool."I am not," she grunts; almost like a little child throwing a strop. She sinks further back into her chair and feels her face form into a small pout.

"Everyone is different out of school," Sugar corrects herself; straightening up and turning to the front as if she's paying attention. "Some more than others but, yeah."

Santana just shakes her head; wondering why Sugar's saying this. Sometimes she does wonder if she's not the only one who leads a double life. Maybe Sugar's not ditzy and weird out of school... Although all the times she's seen the other girl, she's been worse if anything. There's more exclamations of _Aspergers! Sorry! _And all that crap. Quite funny though; Santana does sometimes put it down to rudeness instead of a disease. Sugar's smarter than she makes out, Santana knows that much.

"Whatever," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. "I'm not that different."

"Hmm," Sugar hums.

For some reasons; the lack of response makes her feel really conscious. It's not like Sugar knows about her actually being nicer than she is, but the way the girl is talking does make it seem like something's up. So she feels she needs to elaborate.

"New Girl just got all defensive and shit," Santana shrugs.

"New Girl? Since when did you stop calling her Brittany?"

Her face falls into a blank expression. "I can call her whatever I want, Motta."

Sugar breathes out a sigh that kind of sounds like _and you wonder why_ and it grills on Santana. She doesn't even know why. "What was that?" She points out; questioning with the same challenge in her tone that she did with Quinn the other day.

Sugar looks away; eyes darting around the classroom like she's trying to figure out to how respond. "I mean, if you were like _that," _she gestures to Santana with a sweep of her hand. "Then I'm not surprised she got all defensive."

"_Class if you turn to page 28 in the textbook, and silently read the left hand page to yourself."_

Santana ignores the teacher. She's not going to work in a museum or be some history nerd that sits in a library all day so no need to listen. She swivels her in her chair, tucking one leg underneath her so her kneecap bumps Sugar's chair and throws her arm over the back.

"What's that meant to mean?" She asks with annoyance lacing her tone.

Sugar flicks through the textbook and ducks her head. "It just means that if you're being difficult then she won't want to talk to you."

"And you know that how?"

"Because I'm friends with her," Sugar says like it's the most normal thing in the world.

It's not. No Cheerio has ever talked to someone not on the squad, or not on the football team and actually become friends with them. Especially when the friend is in _Glee club. _That's like social suicide. Finn Hudson and Mike Chang are perfect examples of that. They were pretty cool, with Finn as the Quarterback, and Mike as... A linebacker or whatever it was. But then they joined that choir singing freak show and their reputation literally went straight in the trash.

"Why?"

"_Miss Motta, Miss Lopez. Keep it down over there!"_

"Sorry, Miss!" Sugar yells to the teacher and returns to 'read' the textbook. "Britt's nice."

Santana lifts her hands and waves off the teacher. "Don't call her 'Britt'," she hisses through a whisper. "It makes you sound like you're best friends. Why the hell are you hanging out with a choir freak?"

"You know, if you gave them a chance you'd find out they're not actually that bad."

Dipping her head further, Santana pastes on a disgusted expression. It's not real, because sometimes Santana thinks she could get along with some of the Glee kids. Like that black chick Mercedes, or Chrysler or whatever the hell her name is; they'd probably have some fun together and not in the way Santana usually has fun with girls. Like legitimate friend fun.

"Whatever. I can't be that bad," Santana turns in her seat. "You're my friend."

"You never wanted to _sleep _with me," Sugar retorts. "And in all honesty I didn't have a choice." Santana's brows shoot up in shock. "I could either reject you and drop straight to the bottom of the pile or become your friend and be on top." Sugar shrugs like she didn't just tell Santana they're only friends because they _had _to be. "It was put up and shut up or get out. I weighed it out and it decided which was better."

Santana blinks; ignoring the slight hurt pulsing through her body. "That better be asperger's, Sugar."

Sugar turns and flashes a smile. "Nope."

"Seriously?" Santana grits out. "_That's _why we're friends?"

"_Now if you're all finished, turn your attention to the slideshow on the board and keep quiet." _Miss Yolanda announces, eyes flickering in their direction. _"That applies to you two at the back!"_

"Well at first, yeah." Sugar admits, apparently ignoring the teacher. "But now I know you're not that bad."

"Oh, well I'm _so _glad that _now _I'm not that bad." Sarcasm drips off her words.

"Just try to be more of _this _you, and less of the bitch that all the school seem to know," Sugar's face is sympathetic as she looks Santana dead in the eye. "Because I know that Brittany would like you if she knew the non-school Santana," she finishes with a knowing arch of her brow.

Santana studies her for a moment, drumming her fingertips along the ridge of the back of the chair and then lets out a long breath she didn't know what she was holding. Defeated, she swivels back in her chair and crosses both arms; resting them onto the table and pushing her forehead against her forearms.

This bet is slowly becoming a choice between her reputation and pride.

* * *

As soon as Santana steps onto the parking lot at the end of practice, her phone rings. She lets out a heavy breath and riffles through her jacket pocket, reluctance instantly setting in when she sees her mother's number show up on Caller ID.

Coach Sue basically spent the entire practise biting her ear off, and the last thing she needs is for her mother to ask her to do something. It's the only reason she ever rings after 3pm, and Santana does quickly wonder what the repercussions could be if she just let it go to voice mail. Then again, she'll get home and if it's important, she'll get even more of a grilling.

_God, _she's in a terrible mood.

"Hello?"

"_Mija, it's your mami."_

Santana rubs her eyes, trying to wipe away the ache. "I know, mami. Caller ID."

"_Oh, I forgot." _Her mother chuckles down the line,_"I was just wondering if you could do me a favour."_

Throwing her head back till she looks to the sky, she almost lets out a bitter laugh as her hand searches inside her jacket for her car keys. There it is. The favour. "Sure mami," she says through a long exhale. "What do you need?"

"_Work has just called me in, and so Fernando doesn't have a way home. Would you mind picking him up?"_

She clenches her jaw. It's already 3:30pm which means that her brother will be exiting the school gates at this moment; and it's at least a twenty minute drive there. _Oh joy, _she thinks as she unlocks her car and throws her bag into the passenger seat. Now she's going to get complained at by her little brother.

"_I've already called the principal and he's holding onto Fern until you get there."_

She almost laughs. Her mother knows her so well. Sometimes she does wish she was as much of a bitch at home than she was at school. Then she wouldn't be asked to do fucking favours. _Jesus, _the problems with being a good child. "Okay. I'll leave now."

"_Thank you, honey. I'll see you tonight."_

"Sure."

Then the line goes dead, and Santana closes her eyes, rests against the headrest and wonders if her mother will still do this when she's off in college. Wouldn't be surprised.

* * *

Santana basically falls out her car when she pulls up outside Fernando's school.

It's not because she's tired (even though some of it is due to that), it's mostly because as soon as her hand settles on the handle and clicks it open; a flash of blonde hair catches her eye and she forgets how to put one foot in front of the other. Immediately thinking it's Brittany.

But then she just sees the principal (decidedly _not _paying attention to Fernando but pretending too whilst staring at a woman's ass as she walks away from him) standing next to her little brother who's standing next to a blonde girl around his age, talking and giggling; and to her it looks like the kid version of flirting (whatever that is). Instantly her heart jumps and she zones in on the two, tilting her head to the side and smiling stupidly. It's pretty obvious that her brother's got a crush on this girl, and the smile on her face widens when she links it with herself. Apparently the Lopez' have something for blondes.

Not that she has a crush on Brittany or anything; it's just about the bet.

Shaking herself out her thoughts, she shuts her car door, shoves her hands into her jacket pocket and heads over. As she gets closer though, she notices the similarities between this blonde girl and Brittany. Piercing blue eyes, golden locks and a wide smile that even though this girl is missing a tooth, pays an uncanny resemblance to...

"What are you doing here?"

Santana turns. _Obviously _Brittany would have to be here. "Brittany?"

The blonde cocks a brow; clearly unimpressed. "Is that another move of yours? Calling me by my name and not by 'new girl'?"

_No, _Santana thinks instantly. That wasn't even a trick. She wasn't actually expecting to see the blonde here, and the name just kind of came out. There goes her moves. "No," she answers honestly. "I was just surprised that you were here."

"Well my sister _does _go here," Brittany says, pointing towards Fernando and the little blonde girl. "I'm assuming that's your brother."

Santana narrows her eyes. "It is..."

"Yeah, you can tell."

Turning, Santana eyes the other girl with confusion. "Because we've both got a caramel complexion?"

Brittany presses her lips together, shrugs and crossed her arms. "Well obviously," she says in a tone that makes Santana feel slightly uncomfortable. It's soft; and nothing like it's been in the last few times they've conversed. "But I mean you both have dark brown eyes that are like almost black. They can be intimidating, but mostly they're just defensive because when either of you are unguarded they turn into a soft chocolate colour."

Santana feel her entire body buzz with Brittany's words. Something twitches inside of her and she feels her face soften into a smile that she's not used to having outside of her house. The other girl is facing forward, brilliant blue eyes trained on what she assumes is their siblings; but she just stares at the girl's profile and sucks in her bottom lip. Now they're both out of school, even if Santana's in her Cheerio uniform, it feels completely different.

That scares her.

"How would you know?" She spits defensively, shuffling away and towards her brother. "You've never talked to Fern."

Brittany lets out a bitter laugh from beside her, but soon follows. "Wow," she says through a breath.

Santana stops abruptly and spins, narrowing her eyes dangerously. "What?"

"It's just ridiculous how you can go from being a decent person that I can _actually _talk too," Brittany explains, raising her eyebrows with every word. "To being a mega bitch in a split second. It's like you have a switch."

A small scoff escapes Santana's lips as she stares at the other girl incredulously. She just called her a bitch to her face. That hasn't happened since like... 6th grade. And even then Santana opened a can of whoop ass and Danny Goldenstein ended up going home crying his eyes out. Except it shocks her to realize that there's no urge running through her body to hurt this girl; seeing as it's being replaced by a feeling of... Hurt? _No, _she thinks. That can't be right.

"Hold on," she takes a step forward until the pleats of her skirt are brushing against Brittany's jean shorts. She makes a point _not _to focus on those ridiculously long legs that she just wants to reach out and stroke. _That_ sounds creepy. "This is kind of hypocritical."

Brittany arches a brow and sucks in her cheeks. "Yeah?"

"Yes," Santana agrees; feeling anger burn in the pit of her stomach. "You waltz around acting like you know me," she pokes herself in the chest. "When you really know _fuck all. _And then you think you can judge me?"

"I'm going by what I know," Brittany states, keeping herself stable as she glares down at Santana.

It's not until now that Santana realizes that the other girl has a good few inches on her. "And all you know is what people say," she licks her lips and shakes her head. "You haven't even give me a fucking chance here, Britt." She ignores the jolt in her stomach she gets from using the nickname. "And you say that _I _have a switch? When you flip from trying to push me away from you at any given point in school, to talking to me like a human being, here?" She scoffs, earning a narrowed glare. "How is that fair?"

Brittany runs her tongue over her lips in a manner that shouldn't be distracting; but is. Santana forces herself to listen to what's being said instead.

"It's not fair," the blonde agrees. "I shouldn't judge you before I know you. But I know what you do and how you treat people. And personally? I don't feel like trying to keep up with two acts when I know the person I first met was someone I could get on with."

Perfectly shaped eyebrows meet a dark hairline. "Brittany, you don't even kno-"

"Know you?" Brittany cuts off, features sharp. "No, I don't know you. But honestly I don't want to know you. You're obnoxious, you're stuck up, you treat people like crap and you basically fit into the cheerleader stereotype that I had to _move school_ to get away from."

Santana's mouth drops open, but nothing comes out as she realizes that she's actually _offended._ So Brittany continues.

"I didn't judge you when I first met you just because you were wearing a uniform, and if I'm going to be honest, it was because I was distracted;otherwise I probably would've done." Something flashes behind blue eyes, and Santana's anger dissolves as she thinks it's fear.

"You were distracted?" Santana says in a whisper. "By what?"

Brittany lets out a small, fake chuckle and runs her hands through her hair. "You obviously know you're beautiful, Santana. I'd be blind not to notice that–"

Santana's heart flips and she restrains the smile tugging at her lips.

"–But you use that to your advantage to get girls to sleep with you, and that seriously bothers me. You have no idea how many people did that at Carmel, and I moved to McKinley with the purpose to get away from it. And you–"

Brittany steps forward until their noses are literally a millimetre away from touching.

"–You treat girls like pieces of crap, and no matter how big your dick is," she glances down to Santana's crotch. "Or how beautiful you are, I'm not going to be another one of _those _girls. I know you've only been talking to me to add another notch in your bedpost, but it's _not_ going to happen. So you can give up these stupid little games you're playing because I'm not interested; and as long as you're still putting up this ridiculous act, I'm not going to be."

With that, the blonde walks away and grabs her sisters hand, wrenching the little girl away from Fernando and tugging towards the baby blue beetle sitting idly in one of the waiting spaces. It's really _not _what Santana should be thinking; or feeling for that matter, but all she can think about is the lack of shock or disgust in Brittany's tone when the girl addressed her _extra _appendage. For once, she's actually met someone who's actually pretty casual about it... Which is strange considering even Quinn freaked out for two days before she just accepted Santana for who she was.

"Can we go home, Tana?"

Santana's broken from her thoughts when she looks down and finds her little brother staring up at her. "What?"

"Can we go home, please? I'm cold." Fernando bites on his bottom lip and shuffles his weight onto his other leg.

Her eyes flicker up quickly, meeting the icy glare of piercing blue eyes which soon snap away as the baby blue car comes to life with a loud rev of the engine. Santana clenches her jaw, tears her gaze away and grabs Fernando's hand before tugging him towards the car. They both climb in, Santana assisting her brother and as soon as the car peels away from the curb, she tunes into what her brother's saying.

"...She's awesome and really pretty, Tana."

Santana nods along, completely unaware that her thoughts were focused on another blonde.

"And her sister's real pretty too," Fernando rambles on as he twiddles his thumbs on his lap. "Apparently Britt Britt is a dancer, and is like, super cool. Madison's mom says Brittany's one of a kind, but I don't think that's right. I think Madison is one of a kind."

Barely in the conversation, Santana hums and thinks about everything Brittany said to her. Maybe she is obnoxious. Maybe she does treat people like crap and maybe up until now it's never bothered her. Not until it was pointed out by a certain someone. Now it's all she's fucking thinking about and it's already doing her head in.

"Nah, Fern," she says, eyes fixed on the road and hands working on autopilot as her mind is totally somewhere else. "You're wrong."

Fernando turns, scrunching his brows together and staring at her with utter confusion. "Why, San?"

"Brittany's one of a kind, squirt." She rests her elbow on the ledge, propping her head into her palm whilst driving. "She's definitely one of a kind."


	6. Part Six

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Six]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **6.2k

* * *

Now that she's thinking about it, in comparison to Quinn calling her out on her shit, Brittany's done a hell of a lot worse.

Not only has Santana spent the entire day making sure _not _to peer up the squad's skirts when they're stretching in practise like a pervy 5th grader, but she's actually finding herself wanting to apologise to several of the girls she _knows _she was a complete bitch too in the past.

Take Suzy Pepper for example.

Crazy ass bitch; but pretty hot when she takes those weird glasses off. After Santana slept with the girl at one of Puckerman's infamous parties, and left her on the bed with spread legs and a shocked face as Santana muttered _"thanks for the fuck" _and walked out. The girl burst into tears, ran home and swallowed a _Bhut Jolokia_, the hottest pepper on Earth, which actually landed her in the ER with like internal second degree burns or something.

_Obviously _that's an extreme case, but Santana still feels guilty. But then of course there's Honey Johnston – who Santana passed in the cafeteria at lunch for the first time today in like years – and she _actually_ ducked her head because she felt ashamed by her past actions. After all, she did de-virginise the girl and then tell everyone about it. And even though it's pretty ruthless, she never really cared up until Brittany brought it up and pointed out just how douchey it was. Now she feels like crap.

Hence why now she's sitting underneath the bleachers with Quinn and Sugar, trading drags on a single cigarette Sugar managed to smuggle out her mom's purse and ditching advanced Math. (Sometimes Santana thinks they're 13 again.)

"At least you won't have to see her for like two days," Sugar offers, taking in a drag and passing it.

Santana lets out a small noise of acknowledgement before taking the cigarette and flicking off the excess ash. "I guess so," she brings it to her lips and inhales deeply; feeling the thick smoke crawl down her lungs and ease her chest. It's actually doing the complete opposite, but there's something relieving about a cigarette. "But still, she didn't have to be so damn harsh about it." She passes it over to Quinn and addresses her; "Even _you _weren't that bad."

"Oh get over it, Santana," Quinn says as she snatches the cigarette and sucks on the it harshly three times in concession before blowing it out in a thin line. "You're only offended because she told you the cold, hard truth."

"Quinn..." Sugar chastises. "There's no need to be so-"

"-Rude?" Quinn finishes, arching a brow. "Why, because Santana can dish it out but she can't take it?" She finishes the sentence as if she's talking to Sugar, but gesturing with her hand to Santana.

Suddenly Santana feels like she isn't a part of this conversation at all. "Jesus, Fabray," she snatches the cigarette back and makes a hissing noise from the back of her throat. Almost animalistically. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong with me," the blonde retorts, kicking out her legs in front of her and leaning back on her hands which are press to the ground behind her.

"It kinda seems like there is..." Sugar says, lowly.

Santana lets out a small chuckle and is about to respond when she notices a group of students in black and red gym outfits come onto the field. Her eyes flicker over momentarily; but instantly locking onto long, creamy legs that seem to go on forever as they stick out the bottom of _incredibly _short short-shorts, walking amongst other mediocre legs that all seem to pale in comparison.

Obviously Brittany would have gym now. Why wouldn't she? That would be too damn convenient.

She tears her gaze away (knowing that if she keeps staring she'll have to be hobbling along to the girls changing rooms with her hands over her crotch to cover the growing bulge) and returns to the conversation, bringing the cigarette to her lips and finishing it off without even offering the other girls a final drag.

Except just as she's inhaling the last long drag of thick nicotine smoke, she sees Quinn intently focused on the group that have just come out and hovers. Following the line of sight, she sees Rachel Berry standing there, flicking her long chocolate brown locks of her shoulders and laughing at something that Gothic Asian chick said or did or whatever. Santana doesn't know what losers do with their time.

Just to make sure, she looks back to the blonde, then back to the dwarf and repeats about three times; ensuring there's no mistake. There isn't.

"Fabray?" Santana says, blowing out the line of smoke with her words. "Quit staring."

The blonde shakes her head furiously, before snapping narrowed hazel eyes Santana's way. "I wasn't staring," she spits back defensively.

Santana shrugs and squints against the sunlight filtering in through the cracks of the bleachers. "I wouldn't blame you; Berry may be short but she's got a pair on her."

"_What?"_ It comes out as a hiss, and Santana snaps her head around to make sure she's not reading the tone wrong.

But _nope. _

Quinn's glaring at her with fiery hazel eyes like Santana just insulted her mom or something.

"Just saying," Santa says casually like it's the most normal thing in the world. It won't sink in till later how random and sort of _kind _that comment was.

She spares a quick glance over her shoulder again; noting Rachel and the other girl's forming a circle and laughing as they throw around a red ball. _Not _the way to play dodge ball but whatever; not her gym class. She makes sure not to slide her eyes to the right and watch Brittany because... Well, first of all she's hurt and pissed off, and second, that blonde beauty is seriously distracting. She noticed earlier in English when Brittany was laughing with King Kong Hudson how beautiful she is when she smiles. It's like it lights up her entire fa-

"Perving on the hobbit now, are we?" Quinn continues, curling her upper lip into a snarl that's half-amused and half... defensive?

"No," Santana says through a laugh. "I'm just saying she isn't bad to look at considering how fucking annoying she really is." Sugar shifts in the corner; and brown eyes flicker to the girl quickly, remembering she's there. "Isn't that right, Sug?"

Sugar nods warily, eyes darting between the two girls like she's weighing out the results of who'd be more dangerous _not _to side with. Santana smirks when her eyes land on her.

"She's got nice legs," Sugar half-whispers. "Even I have to admit that."

Quinn narrows her eyes and spits, "Whatever. You've just made it through the entire school already so you've gotta go for the choir geeks," Santana glares at her but it just spurs the blonde on. "And the funniest thing is you can't even get one of them to fuck you. That's just piss poor work, Lopez. Even for you."

"Actually_, Fabray, _it _is _working." It's a lie, and two out of three people know that here. Well, probably three actually. Except Quinn hasn't seem to have nailed down the bullshit-dar yet, so for now she's safe. As long as Sugar doesn't say anything. "I was just thinking if we bump up the wager to $300 then I'll do it by the end of next week."

"Why?" Quinn says condescendingly, arching a brow. "Is poor Santana having trouble?" She mimics in baby voice.

"No. I just think if there's $300 on the line, I'll get more convincing and then I'll be a finger's click away from getting in those pants," she juts her chin towards the field where Brittany's bending over, touching her fingers to her toes and stretching. _Perfect _shot of her ass, right now. Santana feels something twist in the pit of her stomach and presses her thighs together, crossing one ankle over the other as if it'll minimise the hot arousal pulsing through her body. "Just need to do some acting and convince her I'm not that bad."

Sugar purses her lips and scrunches her face together in complete disapproval. Santana pretends not to see.

"You _are _that bad," Quinn retorts, smirking. "I think we've met your match, Lopez."

"We haven't," Santana tries. "I'm just not really up for doing this, and if another hundred dollars was thrown into the mix; it'd change my mind. Getting called obnoxious and a slut isn't in my contract. So I think I deserve a little more for this." Her eyes flicker towards the field and land on Brittany. Something cold drops in her chest and she inhales deeply against it. "She's a tough cookie."

"She isn't. Not when you know her anyway."

She snaps her head around, narrowing her eyes at the blonde girl. "And you know, her do you?"

Quinn looks to her with something she can't quite recognise. It's secretive, but yet revealing; like the blonde wants her to figure out what's going on. It makes her anger falter and glare fail.

"I've talked to her," Quinn admits. "Only when she yelled at me for shoving Berry over in the parking lot."

Santana jerks her head back so quickly she swears it clicks. "You shoved Berry over in the _parking _lot and New Girl yelled at you?"

The muscles around Quinn's jaws tighten visibly. "The dwarf was annoying and apparently Brittany got defensive."

"So what? You're being _nice _to New Girl and bait girl?"

"They have names, Santana."

Perfectly shaped eyebrows meet a dark hairline as Santana leans forward, crossing her legs and leaning her forearms onto her shins to study the blonde girl. Sugar looks between all of them, obviously wary of the situation but Santana ignores it. "What's got into you, Q? You're having major mood swings and they're worse than usual, and don't blame it on Puckerman because he said you two didn't fight."

That's all it takes for Quinn to snap into another mood swing, and she swiftly manoeuvres herself to her feet, brushing off the dirt on her Cheerios uniform and glares down at Santana with dangerous hazel eyes. "_Nothing, _Santana. I'm not having mood swings because I'm _fine, _and Puckerman's thick. He wouldn't know I was angry even if I came up and slapped him in the face."

"Clearly," Santana's tone drips with sarcasm and she does a sweep of Quinn's body with one hand. "You need to chill the fuck out, Fabray," she stands and steps closer to the blonde. "Because the more you act like this, the less likely I am to chase your ass and kick you back into gear so then you'll be left alone and you'll be fucked 'cause you can't deal with your own shit."

Anger bubbles in the pit of her stomach as the words spill out, and Quinn just glares at her the entire time. Sugar's still sitting on the floor, obviously wanting to _not _be in this conversation and focusing on the few rocks in front of her; but Santana doesn't really notice. She flares her nostrils and challenges the blonde, waiting for something to come back in the form of physical violence or verbal.

Sure, you could say she's being a bitch for clearly fucking Quinn off more than she already is, but this is what they do. They've never done the sentimental shit; never wanted to braid each other's hair or paint each other's nails. They've always called each other out on shit, whether it's harsh or not or whether it'll hurt their feelings. It's just how they do.

"Fuck you, Santana," Quinn closes the distance between them until she's towering over Santana; their noses touching. "Fuck you."

Santana doesn't flinch at the venom curdling around the other girl's words. "See what I mean? This isn't the Quinn that Sugar and I know."

"Maybe you just never knew me."

"Seriously, Q?" Santana gets out with disbelief lacing her tone. "We've been friends for years and I've put up with your shit, of course I fucking know you."

Quinn arches a brow, her whole body deflating as she lets out a long exhale. "People change, Santana," hazel eyes wander off towards the field. But just before Santana can follow the line of sight, Quinn continues, "Deal with it."

Santana doesn't get a chance to reply as the blonde barges past her, knocking their shoulders together as she ducks out from underneath the bleachers with back pack slung over her shoulder. Santana only gets to watch her best friend walk away, making sure to walk close enough to Rachel to trip the girl over and send a narrowed glare to the short brunette who just stares up at her incredulously from the ground. Except Santana misses the hurt flash across Rachel's eyes and the regret beaming through Quinn's.

However, she does see piercing blue eyes staring at her but makes a point not to meet them as she sits down with her back facing the field. For the rest of the hour she tries not to (but fails too) twitch every time she feels that damn blue burn a hole into her shoulder blades.

* * *

Santana has one more period until it's the end of school and the beginning of the weekend. She could literally not be happier. Especially because her next lesson is PHSE where she basically spends the entire lesson saying _"wanky" _or giggling because Miss Pilsbury is so _obviously _a virgin it's actually painful to watch her try and teacher Sex Education. Those stupid pamphlets give more detail instead of the redhead blushing furiously at the front of the class and fidgeting around uncomfortably when someone mentions the word _penetration_.

"Are you going to sex ed?" Sugar pops up beside her, clutching her books to her chest.

Santana smirks. "Think I'd give up an opportunity to make Bambi feel even more uncomfortable than she already does?"

"Totally," Sugar agrees, nodding. "Maybe this week we could make comments about..."

Santana doesn't hear the rest.

They've just turned around the corner and _obviously _Brittany would have to be standing outside the PSHE room with Berry and Hummel, casually leaning against the wall with one foot planted on the wall and looking ridiculously pretty considering she's doing something mundane as conversing with the choir geeks. She almost rolls her eyes when her feet slow down automatically, hesitating as blue eyes brighten when Brittany smiles. And as if she called her name, those same eyes slide to the left, the wide grin slowly dissolving into a pitiful smile as they land on Santana, and Santana can't help but hold the gaze.

"...Right, Santana?"

Snapping herself out of it, Santana turns to Sugar with a confused expression. She has no idea what they were just talking about. "What did you say?"

Sugar slides her eyes to the right, narrowed, and then back to Santana. Santana doesn't need to follow the other girl's line of sight to know she's just been caught. Then there's the added proof of Brittany still staring back at her; something she doesn't even need to see to know. She seriously wishes Brittany would stop doing that. It's making her think about something she shouldn't. This is about a bet, nothing else, so it doesn't matter that Brittany said that shit about her because it didn't effect her. She's not hurt or saddened by it at all.

Nope, not at all.

"Nothing. Look," she clutches her books closer to her chest. "I don't feel like going to sex ed now."

Sugar eyes her warily. Studying her curiously for a long moment before she speaks. "She's getting to you isn't she."

It's more of a statement than a question, and Santana grinds her teeth together as if she's grinding up the lie that's about to roll off the tip of her tongue. "No."

"Why are you lying?"

"I'm not."

Sugar tilts her head to the side. "Santana."

Santana sighs and closes her eyes against the frustration she feels. Not for Sugar's insistence, or for Brittany's staring; just against herself. "Just... Can you just tell Miss Pilsbury I wasn't feeling great," she sees the _"no" _before it comes out. So pushing the boat out, she adds, "please?" and hopes for the best.

By now it'd be pretty naïve of Santana to say that Sugar couldn't cut through _most _of her bullshit, but also because of the time length in which that skill was learnt – Sugar's also learned the ability to know when to question it and when to shut up. Shutting up being one of these times.

"Sure, Santana." Sugar forces a smile and heads towards the PSHE room.

"Thanks," she replies. "Bye."

"Have a nice weekend."

"Yeah," Santana heads down the hall but throws a last glance back towards the blonde _still_ leaning against the wall; but no longer staring at her. "You too."

* * *

She's barely made it through the freakin' front door when her mother bombards her with questions about her day and why she's home early and all that other crap. Sure, sometimes it's nice to come home to a loving mother wanting to know how her day went, but not today.

Today she just wants to curl up into a ball, pretend _not _to mull over Brittany's words and spend the rest of the weekend pointedly _not _thinking about that fucking new girl that just waltzed into Santana's life, completely unannounced and decided to say all this shit that's now playing with her mind.

"Fernando's gone to his friends house, mija." Her mother calls from the kitchen as Santana kicks her feet onto the coffee table. "So after you get your feet off the coffee table," her mother walks into the living room with bright yellow washing up gloves and a pretty pink housewife apron on. Seriously, she just fits fucking perfectly into the rich bitch cliché. "Could you pick him up at 7?"

Her head slumps against the back of the couch and her eyes drift upwards to focus on the ceiling. It's not really like she has a choice in this. "Sure, mami. What's the address?"

"It's only three blocks away, honey." Her mother comes to sit down next to her, placing a hand on her knee. "There's no need to be like that."

The microwave pings in the kitchen before she can reply, and closing her eyes she feels her mother get up from the sofa and head back into the kitchen. Fatigue creeps up behind her eyelids, and she flexes her fingers into the cushions beneath her palms. She could seriously do with a nap right now.

"It's the fourth house down on Oaklands Avenue. Lovely family. Just moved from Akron."

Santana grunts along, loud enough for her mother to hear but not so loud it hurts to make it. To be honest she's barely paying attention and she can feel sleep just shouting her name and enticing her into darkness.

"So be ready for 6:45 to make sure you're not late, okay?"

Santana snaps open her eyes and glances to the clock. Just turned 3pm. She has enough time to have a nap if she wants, but knowing her body clock that'll fuck up her sleeping routine for tonight. She rolls her eyes, pushes both palms to the sofa cushions and stands, wavering slightly from the fatigue scratching at her brain.

"I'm going upstairs for a nap," she announces. "But I'll be sure to wake up in time. No need to worry."

Her mother hums in approval and then she turns to climb up the stairs. With the combination of being tired and knowing she can't just change into PJ's and sleep, the steps seem like Mount Everest. She trudges up every one until she reaches the top, then practically trips her way towards her bedroom.

Her bed has never looked better.

As she throws herself down on top of the comforter, face burying into the fabric and Cheerios uniform still on, she hears the low humming of her laptop and has the urge to turn it off because she can never sleep with that thing on. It's more irritating then that clock in the family bathroom down the hallway. Fucking thing ticks and tocks all night long, and the first week that they had it, she didn't get a wink of sleep.

Reluctantly, she rolls, throws her legs over the edge of the bed and drags herself towards her desk. She slumps down in the chair, chin in her palm and elbow on table top as she brings the screen to life with a click of the mouse pad. Google Chrome instantly pops up, Facebook open in one of the tabs and Santana narrows her eyes as she scrolls down the news feed. There's pointless post after pointless post just clogging it, and she honestly does wonder why she even goes on this damn thing anymore. It only annoys her.

(Although she kind of thinks she likes the fact she has over a thousand friends on there.)

Except unlike usual (where she'd find something that pissed her off to the point where she'd slam the laptop shut) she sees something that actually perks her interest. It's just a little notification up the top left hand corner, along with like a hundred other people who want to friend her (because if she's honest, she loves keeping people waiting and knowing that there's people eagerly anticipating her acceptance of their friend request) but this one is completely different.

_Brittany S. Pierce wants to be your friend. Accept or Ignore?_

Santana blinks; unsure of what she's read. A incredulous scoff almost bursts through her lips as she thinks of the irony. Wasn't it only yesterday that Brittany was saying how much of a bitch and slut she was? She ignores the twinge in her heart at the memory.

She seriously doesn't get this girl; and sure, that might be like acceptable to most people because they barely know each other. But it's been like a week since she made the bet with Quinn and she's yet to have made any progress. This is like a big thing for her. Usually by now she's pulling up her boxers, throwing the girl a quick wink and exiting their house faster than you can say _where are you going? _It's never usually taken this long, and with the combination of that weird, jittery feeling she gets whenever she's around Brittany, as well as the guilt she feels knowing it's because of a bet... She's not how much longer she can do this.

She's a lot of things. Patient she is not.

Shutting her laptop a little harder than necessary, she brings her forehead to the wood of her desk and shuts her eyes.

* * *

"Santana! You're going to be late if you don't leave now."

Santana jolts up, eyes snapping open. "What?"

Her mother's standing behind her now, without the washing up gloves or the pale pink apron on. Now she's sporting a white blouse, dress pants and a comfy cardigan that just _screams_ therapist. "You fell asleep, Santana. And if you don't leave now you'll be late to pick up Fernando."

Glancing out the window, she realizes just how dark it is now. The sun has now gone down, replaced by small stars which dot the indigo canopy of the sky and there's a low glow spreading across the west where the moon rests gently in the centre. _Fuck, _she needs to stop paying attention in English Literature. If any of that crap came out her reputation would go straight down the pooper.

"Sure," she rubs at her eyes and stands from the desk. Her jaw aches from where it was pressed against the wood of the desktop. "I'll get going."

"I'll be home after midnight, so if you're hungry there's twenty dollars on the coffee table for you and Fernando to get some pizza or Chinese."

Santana nods, still groggy from the aftermath of waking up. "Thank you."

Her mother leans down, presses a quick kiss to her forehead and then disappears out the door. "Bye Tana."

"Bye," Santana responds as she changes out her clothes and into something a little more comfortable. Jeans, t-shirt, Chucks and bomber jacket. She grabs her keys of the vanity table and heads downstairs, only pausing to snatch the twenty dollar bill and shove it in her pocket before leaving through the front door.

* * *

Santana eases off the accelerator as she heads down Oaklands Avenue. Fourth house down, her mom said. She did leave at like 6:45, like her mom told her too, but seeing as even with a Sat Nav she seems to get lost, it took her three times longer than it should have done to get here.

When the houses come into view, both her brows shoot up, surprised by the sheer size of them. Seeing as Lima is like _tiny, _she never really thought to drive around and actually take a good look at the other houses here.

They're all pretty big. Relatively wealthy families must live here. Not Lopez wealthy, because that's a salary from her father's occupation as a Neurosurgeon - which alone is well over one hundred and fifty grand a year - and her mother's Occupational Therapist salary - which too is over a hundred grand a year - but they're still pretty decent. Large bricked plantation type houses with cute stoops that people dream about having in the suburbs and white picket fences. All it needs to complete the typical family home cliché is a Volvo dealership down the road.

How did she not know this place was here?

She pulls up when she reaches the fourth house down, and like the other's it's pretty big. The face of it is painted white, with baby blue window frames and petite flower boxes that just screams _mi casa es su casa. _But obviously not in Spanish. That's her bilingual mind speaking again.

After applying the handbrake, she switches off the ignition and clambers out the car; pointing her keys over her shoulder and locking the car from her key fob. She stands at the end of the pathway, not yet entering the white picket fence because that means she'll have to go up to the front door; and right now, she kind of just wants to look at the house.

It's not like her house isn't nice. It's just that her house is so damn formal, and it kind of lacks the family vibe that this one presents. Pretty stupid considering when it comes to families, the Lopez' are actually quite close. It's just that with this house, she can just imagine the mother and father chasing the kids around the back yard, dodging the Golden Retriever that's weaving in and out of their legs as they pick up their children and swing them around with Cheshire grins on their face.

Her house isn't like that, and even though she's standing outside, she's already feeling the welcoming warmth curdling through her body.

So she walks in with her hands dug deep into her jeans pocket. She has to admit, it feels weird to be out the house without her Cheerio uniform, but it doesn't matter. She doesn't know anyone around here. Plus, if she does, she's going to be back in her car in about three minutes.

The door is a the same shade as the window frame, and she smiles as she thinks of how much time was put into the aesthetics of this house. It looks like it's been recently painted as the strokes of the brush are still visible; and it almost makes her want to run her fingertips over just to see if it's still wet. But she doesn't. That'd be pretty weird. Instead, she tucks one hand back into her jeans pocket and brings the other one up to rap at the door; twice in quick succession and then adding a third just for good luck.

She scuffs her foot along the floor, noting the soft brush against the bottom of her Chucks and glances down. There's a welcome matt; dark brown with red writing spelling out _Welcome to__ our home _and she can't help the smile that tugs at her lips. Whoever lives her is certainly friendly, and it eases her a bit more. Not because she thought she'd be attacked when the door was thrown open, but because at least she knows she'll be greeted with a warm smile.

Well, that's what she thinks anyway.

Shuffling comes from behind the door, along with a small _"I'm coming" _and two seconds later it swings open to reveal-

"Brittany?" Santana says, for what feels like the millionth time in two days.

Brittany's standing there in small yellow short shorts, with a printed duck on the left leg above the thigh and a turquoise tank top that reveals the curve of her shoulders, dip of her collarbones and hollow of her throat. Her hair's loose around her shoulders, curling at the tips, and she's wearing a pair of what Santana can only describe as 'nerd glasses', as they're thick, black and rimmed.

Santana has a hard time keeping her eyes off the girl, though. She's fucking _stunning._

"Santana?" Brittany mirrors in the same manner, confused and slightly worried. "What are you doing here?"

Shaking herself out her thoughts, Santana shuffles, glancing down to her outfit and realising her defences are down. No Cheerios uniform. "My brother's here for a play-date with um..." she racks her brain for Brittany's sister's name. "Madison?"

"Yeah," the blonde nods, dropping her hand from where it was resting on the door and crossing her arms over her chest. "I thought your mom was picking him up?"

Santana narrows her eyes. So apparently her mom forgot to tell her she was heading to Brittany's house. _Wonderful. _"She got called into work," she replies, lowly, suddenly remembering the intense glances on the field and the last conversation they shared. She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. She's Santana fucking Lopez. She has to remember that. "So I had to come."

The other girl bites on her bottom lip with something resembling sympathy flashing behind her blue eyes. She studies Santana second for a second, before drumming her fingertips along the curve of her elbow and sparing a glance over her shoulder. Santana doesn't see what too, so instead she just stands there awkwardly, making a point not to scuff her shoe along the welcome mat. Last time that made her smile and _God _that would be humiliating if she did it in front of another person. Especially Brittany.

"Well, I mean, your mom wasn't supposed to be here til 7:45, so..."

Santana rolls her eyes and shakes her head. She's got an hour til she has to come back and by the time she gets home, turns on TV, finds something to watch, she'll have to come back out again seeing as she has absolutely no sense of direction and it'll probably take another fifteen minutes to travel three blocks.

"You can come in," Brittany offers and shrugs. "If you want."

Her eyes flicker up. "Why?" She asks like she's expecting the entire Glee club inside, ready to ambush her.

Brittany tilts her head to the side and shrugs. "You can go home if you want."

"No," Santana widens her eyes at herself at the speed that came out. "I was just wondering why you'd invite me inside when it's pretty clear you don't like me."

The other girl sighs. "I don't _not _like you, Santana. I just hadn't see anything to like when I said _those _things."

The use of past tense creeps up Santana's spine and makes her stomach flips. So she squints her eyes a little more like she's trying to see Brittany in a clearer light, but it doesn't do anything to alleviate the weird jittery feelings multiplying inside her stomach. She wonders if the past tense means that _now _Brittany can see something in her, and then something clicks inside of her and she knows _exactly _how to win this bet.

She tries to ignore the huge part clawing at mind telling her how fucking stupid this idea is.

"Well, it doesn't matter," Santana runs her tongue along her teeth. "You don't have to worry about me bothering you anymore."

The blonde sucks in her lips, trying to feign interest but failing. "Why?"

"I no longer want you to be another _'notch in my bedpost'_ so you won't have to put up with my _'stupid little games', _as you so kindly put it," she recalls, gritting her teeth together with genuine anger. It feels pretty weird to have someone she barely knows effect her like this.

"San..." Brittany says her nickname like they know each other so well and it does nothing to quell the bitter fury pulsating through her veins.

"I'm just here to pick up my brother," she interjects when she gets over the flipping motion her stomach's making. "That's it."

"Well they have fourty five minutes left to play, and I just put on Beauty and the Beast for them in the living room."

Santana lets out a more than annoyed sigh. "Can't you just, like," she rubs the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Pause it?"

"But Belle just found the floating rose," Brittany scrunches up her face in complete disapproval and Santana finds it hard not to smile at how adorable the blonde is. "And if I stop it then they'll be left on a cliffhanger and that's not fair."

Sparing a glance over her shoulder, she looks to her car and then back to the blonde girl. "I'll just go wait in my car," she announces, turning on her hell and heading for the stairs of the stoop. But fingers curl around her wrist and she stills, twisting her neck slightly to question Brittany's boldness. It was only yesterday that Brittany couldn't stand her, and now she's _stopping _her from walking away from her house? Bit fucking hypocritical considering Brittany's the one that said _she _has the switch.

"Just come inside," Brittany says, quietly. "You might get cold in the car and you don't want your battery to drain because you had to keep the engine on."

Santana feels the heat of the other girl's fingers sink through the fabric of her sleeve and she tugs her arm out Brittany's grip, ignoring the jolt she gets pulsing through her body when their fingers brush against one another.

Her mouth drops open to reply negatively, and say something along the lines of _"I'd much rather sit in a dead car than with you" _because if she's honest, Brittany's actually effect her much more than she thought were possible and the close proximity just makes her want to flick on the Lopez twinkle and charm the pants off the girl. Which would bode well with the bet, but totally just prove Brittany's point and the plan she has inside her head isn't going to work if that happens.

Except when she turns and meets hopeful blue eyes, she finds her mind subconsciously switching around her answers and instead she replies; "Fine," and heads inside. Figuring out how she's going to keep herself away from Brittany for forty minutes with the girl in seriously tiny short shorts and _not _become a ridiculous mess as she tries to flick on the Lopez charm that totally doesn't work with this girl. Last thing she wants is to look like a complete idiot.

Although that might be the next port of call.


	7. Part Seven

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Seven]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **5.7k

* * *

"So, do you want something to drink or eat?"

Santana sucks in her lips, rocks up onto the balls of her feet and straightens her arms at the elbows as the blonde rounds her after shutting the door. They're not standing in front of each other with at least two meters between them in the Pierce foyer.

"No," she shakes her head. "I'm good, thank you."

Brittany jigs her leg up and down as if she's nervous and looks around the foyer. Santana tries not to focus on that leg because _seriously? _That amount of skin should be like, have a pornographic label or something. Girl has _killer _legs. Girl also doesn't like her. Noting that down in the back of her mind.

"Well I'm gonna go watch TV," Brittany announces, gliding (since apparently the girl doesn't walk) into the den and pausing to throw a look over her shoulder. "You're welcome to stand there for forty minutes. If not, you can join me."

Santana narrows her eyes and can't fight the smile tugging at her lips. The other girl smirks back and she just shakes her head, ducking her chin to her chest to hide the grin as she follows Brittany into the den.

There's one three seater couch in the centre of the room, an arm chair to the left of it, a fireplace directly in front of it and then the wide screen TV (which is like 60 inches wide or something) in the corner, propped up on a wall bracket with a small corner coffee table beneath it. It pretty much just looks like a living room, except for the lack of windows. Maybe once upon a time it was a living room.

"Wow," Santana's eyes widen as she takes everything in. Darted all around the fireplace on the little brick ledge are what seems like thousands of family photos. The entire family blonde and blue eyed and have grins the size of Africa on their faces; not to mention there's like twenty of them.

Brittany, now sitting on the right hand side of the couch with her legs stretched out over the width of the cushions, stops from flicking over the TV channels and looks up. "What?"

"You've got a big family," Santana shrugs as she awkwardly makes her way to the armchair. "S'all."

"Yeah," Brittany nods and returns her attention to the TV. "My close family are the smallest of the Pierce lot. I have like twelve cousins, five on my dad's side and seven on my mom's."

Dark eyebrows shoot up. "Whoah. I've only got Fernando and my parents," Santana sits in chair and suddenly realises how uncomfortable it is.

Brittany's face lightens up a little as she looks back towards Santana. "You know that's the least comfiest seat in the house, right?"

"Not that bad." She's lying. She's pretty sure about fifty springs are digging into her ass. "Okay," she meets grinning blue eyes and her begins to laugh. "Totally is."

"Come sit over here," Brittany bends her legs until one seat cushion is free. "If you want."

She hesitates for a second before pushing off the arms of the chair and heads towards the sofa. It's only now she becomes aware of how her heart's pounding and palms are sweating. As she gets closer to the other girl, she feels her body intensify and pulse pick up until it's racing frantically. She swallows against a thickening throat and feels heat build around her collar from where she sits down and feels Brittany's feet push against the outside of her thigh.

"So where's Fernando?" Santana asks in attempt to distract herself from the tingling sensation shooting through her body.

"In the living room," Brittany replies, twisting on her side and pressing both feet into Santana's side, just below her waist. Seriously, is she like doing this on purpose? "It's back there," she waves her hand towards the hallway and Santana sees the flickerings of the TV reflected on the wall.

"Oh, right."

Silence invades their conversation and Santana tries to shuffle as far away from the other girl as she can. After all, she's still kind of offended by what Brittany said, and uncomfortable that she's in a complete strangers house. She's not used to it. Most of the time she knows someone; and sure, _yeah, _Fernando's in the other room, but it doesn't count. He's like seven.

"I think Fernando has a crush on Maddie, you know."

Santana smiles, turning to look at Brittany's who's focused on the screen. "Yeah, I think so too."

"That's be pretty weird," Brittany twists until she's lying on her back and staring down her body at Santana. "If they started like baby dating."

"Baby dating?" Santana asks with a chuckle. "That's kind of gross."

Brittany giggles. _God, _she even has an adorable giggle. "Yeah, but I mean like, it basically is like they're babies 'cause they can't go on a real date."

"And what's a real date to you?"

Brittany presses her lips together in thought, blue eyes roaming upwards to the ceiling. "Hmm," she hums, shifting her feet until they're propped in Santana's lap. Usually it'd be cool, but Santana feels her whole body tense because she has no idea where to put her hands now. Underneath Brittany's legs? On top of them? No, wait, that's too personal. She settles by resting them limply either side of her. "Probably dinner, maybe a movie and then back to someone's house for snuggles."

"Snuggles? On the first date?" Santana arches a brow. "Really?"

Blue eyes sparkle mischievously. "Depends on the person."

Even though this entire situation should probably feel quite strange considering they went from being uncomfortable strangers at the front door to acting like friends. What's even stranger, is that Santana hasn't thought once about trying to keep up the school bitch façade, and so far Brittany's been response. She thinks that may be a key feature in winning this bet.

"Yeah?" Feeling brave, Santana lifts one hand and lets her wrist rest on top of Brittany's shins, hand dangling near her socked foot. "And what kind of person would that be?"

Brittany grins, but there's something in that smile that says _I'm not gonna tell you that _and Santana cocks her head to the side; knowing that Brittany knows she knows. Wow, that's confusing. "You're not gonna tell me?"

"Nope. You know I'm not."

"Hmm," Santana smirks, knowingly. "I do."

Their eyes stay locked for a long while, neither of them daring to break it. Santana's reason is probably down to stubbornness, but Brittany's is down to sheer wonderment by the looks of things. Although, Santana kind of thinks hers is because this girl intrigues her more than anyone ever has before. Brittany's absolutely nothing like anyone else. One of a kind.

"You know," Brittany pauses to prop herself up on her elbows; unconsciously shuffling down until her calves are resting in Santana's lap. "I like this you."

In any other given situation, meaning school, Santana would probably freeze up and flinch. But she feels no need too as she sees no underlying smirk or jab at her. So she smiles and looks away; almost embarrassed that someone can actually like _her _for _her. _And not for what she pretends to be.

"Well don't go around telling people," she says it with a joke in her tone but it kind of comes out like she's serious.

Brittany gets that and just smiles back. "Obviously," she nudges Santana's ribs. "Me too, you know."

"You too, what?"

"Don't go around telling people I'm hanging out with you," Brittany quips. "It might do some serious damage to my reputation."

Santana lets out a loud chuckle because it's totally something she would say. She shakes her head and unconsciously brings her other arm up to join the one resting on Brittany's leg and begins to tease her fingers together.

"I don't mean that," she says, lowly.

"Yeah, you do," Brittany replies, moving to sit up and latch onto her shins to keep herself up. "But it's fine."

Dark brows scrunch together and Santana leans in until their faces are about four inches away from each other. She gets momentarily distracted by counting the freckles on the other girl's face as Brittany's mouth drops open to respond. Seriously, in this distance she can see each of Brittany's eyelashes and the curve of her lips. The way her eyes angle up at the side to create their catlike shape and those tiny silver specks dotted around her pupil which is surrounded by memorizing pools of sapphire.

"Because," Brittany licks her lips as her eyes flicker between brown. "I know you're-"

"Tana?" A sleepy Fernando is standing at the doorway, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. A small blonde girl is next to him doing the same. Maddie, Santana assumes. "When did you get here?"

Brown eyes flicker to the clock above the fireplace and back. "Ten minutes ago," she answers, straightening up (and away from Brittany) and then pushing Brittany's legs off her lap. "You okay, squirt?"

She hears Brittany whispers _"squirt?" _under her breath but decides to ignore it as she moves off the sofa and towards her brother. Crouching down in front of him, she brushes a piece of his hair back as it's fluffed from sleep and cups his cheek. "Tired?"

Fernando nods, pouting. "I'm hungry too, Tana."

Santana looks over her shoulder towards Brittany and smiles weakly. "I should get him home to feed him."

"I'm hungry, too," Maddie joins in and grins widely.

Santana narrows her eyes playfully and falls to her knees, shuffling until she's between the two seven year old's and brings her hand away from her brother's cheek to offer it out to the small blonde girl. "Well hello, there. I'm Santana."

A small blush creeps up on Maddie's cheeks and she giggles, ducking her head. Santana hears Brittany shuffle and move, until she's close enough to bend down and then they're crouching next to each other, arms brushing. She tries her hardest, but Santana can't help but shiver as their bare skin touch.

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" Brittany asks her sister, smiling.

Maddie giggles even more, lifting one hand to muffle it whilst the other blindly stretches. They barely make contact as the little girl mutters, "Hello, I'm Maddie" before whipping her hand away and burying her face into the sleeve of Fernando's light blue t-shirt.

Brittany frowns, but still grins as she reaches out to brush a lock of blonde hair behind her sisters ear.

"What's gotten into you?" She then turns and addresses Santana, "Sorry, she's never usually like this."

Santana smiles at Brittany, shrugs and says; "It's fine. Most people don't like me when they meet me," knowingly.

The blonde just chuckles lightly and quips, "Do they ever start too?"

"I don't know," brown eyes flicker between blue. "We'll have too see."

Brittany understands and smiles, Santana can't help but feel something light flicker in her chest like a spark and exhale softly. The blonde turns back to the smaller one and grabs both of Maddie's small hands between her own. "Let's get you and Ferny some food."

"Ferny?" Santana cocks a brow. "He's not a plant."

Brittany scrunches up her nose, eyeing her quickly, "Shush you," she says before turning back to the seven year old's. "Does that sound okay, guys?"

The children nod, eyeing each other and smushing their faces together like they're concealing giggles and grins. Santana narrows her eyes, running her tongue along the underside of her teeth as she pushes up into a standing position and crosses her arms. She was young once. She knows when two children are laughing at her or anyone else for that matter.

"No, no, Britt," she reaches out and places her hand on Brittany's shoulder. Making sure to restrain the shaky breath she wants to suck in from the contact. "Wait up."

Brittany tilts and twists her head until she can look up. "What?"

"Stand up a sec," she ushers the blonde up. "I gots to ask these two something."

Fernando raises both eyebrows and Maddie fidgets nervously next to him. They're both staring at her with their utmost attention, and Santana being Santana, she puts on a slightly angered expression that she knows two seven year old's can't decipher.

"What's going on?" She directs the question to her brother who looks down and sucks in his lips as he conceals a grin. "Fernando?" Taking a step forward, she tilts his chin up and stares at him quizzically.

Maddie nudges him and he says, "No, you tell her," but she little blonde girl just shakes her head furiously.

"Madison?" Brittany steps in and leans down to her little sister. "What's going on?"

But both seven year old's stay quiet.

"Fernando..."

"Madison..."

Santana glances quickly at Brittany who looks back, they grin evilly at each other, nodding as if they're silently communicating and then lunge. Grabbing Fernando around the waist, Santana tickles the boy furiously, starting at his ribcage and winding around his stomach. She hears several screams and giggling yells coming from beside her, and grins because Fernando does exactly the same.

There's no difference between their high pitched chuckles as they're scooped up and dumped onto the sofa; the tickling attack resuming. She bumps into Brittany a few times, their hips colliding and they do nothing but share grins as their fingers work harder until their siblings are gasping for air.

"Okay!" Fernando manages to get out through a giggle. "_MaddiethinksSantanaispretty._"

Santana freezes and cocks a brow. "Is that it?" She asks, feeling slightly conceited.

"Up yourself, much?" Brittany teases from beside her as Maddie and Fernando both quickly removes themselves from their sister's grasp and shuffle together to hug in the centre. They're probably imagining Brittany and Santana to be monster's they're hiding from.

"Well," Santana straightens her neck and stands properly. Brittany does the same until they're facing each other. "_You_ did say I was _beautiful._"

The blonde lets out a soft chuckle, "_Clearly _you didn't get in what context," she blinks innocently before plopping down onto the sofa next to her sister, poking the smaller blonde and whispering; "What do you wanna eat?"

Maddie bites her lips, scrunches her brows together and looks towards the ceiling in thought. After about five seconds or so she turns to Fernando who's absently toying with the strings on his shorts and whispers something. His face brightens and he nods frantically before turning back and pouting. Santana watches as Maddie mirrors the expression and they both blink up at Brittany.

"Britt Britt..." Fernando starts, blinking innocently with long lashes. Santana's always been jealous of the length.

"You know you love us..." Maddie continues.

Brittany arches a brow and shuffles towards the edge of the sofa, intrigued. Santana moves closer until she's hovering next to the older blonde, staring down at the children with identical expressions. Her body involuntarily twitches when a pale arm moves, brushing her thigh in the process.

"Well we were thinking..." Fernando draws out, turning to Maddie who continues.

Maddie bats her lashes. "Can we have..."

The two seven years old look towards each other, grin mischievously and then says, "Pizza!" simultaneously and begin to giggle.

"Hmm..." Brittany purses her lips, playfully. "I don't know about that. Santana?" She turns and smiles. "What do you think?"

"I think-" she pauses her sentence by crouching, teetering to the right with a loss of balance but blindly reaching out and steadying herself on Brittany's knee. Almost instantly spares surge through her and she gulps loudly. Blue eyes flicker down to her, but nothing is sad so Santana removes her hand swiftly, tucking it between her thighs and pinching tightly.

"-That's a good idea."

Fernando's brown eyes sparkle and Maddie practically leaps off the sofa and into Santana's arms. She hugs back quickly, not used to having company whilst hugging people (obviously apart from the recipient of said hug) and then pulls away with a smile. Her brother leans in next, pecking her on the cheek and as he leans away, she ruffles his hair and scrunches her nose up at him. Something flutters inside her chest when her eyes slide to the right and spot Brittany gazing at her like she's... Proud?

"But," Santana pushes on her own thighs to stand. "I'm more in the mood for something else."

Brittany glances up, curious. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking..."

They both tap their chins in though, riffling through the different take-outs available. Obviously there's pizza. Then there's Breadstix if they feel like that. Indian if they want to spend the entire night preoccupied in the toilet or there's...

"Chinese?"

"Chinese?"

Speaking simultaneously, Santana whips her head around to the taller blonde and grins. The grin is reciprocated and they both stare at each other with something neither quite recognise yet – sparkling eyes, small smiles and flashing emotions. Neither understand what it means right now, but time will soon tell.

"Changs?" Brittany asks, breaking the stare.

Santana clears her throat, slips out her cell phone before typing in 'C' and embarrassingly ringing the contact that's saved. "Sounds good."

The weird tremble in her stomach doesn't go amiss.

* * *

By the time their food arrives, it's around 8. Cartons and pizza boxes are spread out across the width of the carpet. Santana and Brittany are sitting side by side with their backs against the bottom of the sofa and Fernando and Maddie are laying on their fronts, munching blindly on their pizza slice as their eyes are fixated on _Nickelodeon _on TV. They both agreed to pay for themselves and their siblings as, well, that was only fair.

Even if there was a sparking urge inside Santana to blurt that she wanted to buy Brittany's.

"You added me on Facebook, then." Santana says, casually. Ignoring the jolt in her chest as she recalls it.

It's been bugging her ever since she watched Brittany check her Facebook on her cell. Mostly because she wonders if that means they're going to try and be friends in reality, or if she's reading way too much into this.

Brittany sucks in the last of her noodle and nods. "I did," she agrees and puts down her chopsticks inside the carton, before twisting her head and making eye contact. "Figured you know so much about me, it's time for me to know about you."

Fernando and Maddie giggle in the background. Brittany looks around but Santana's too focused on the blonde.

"What was that about asking personally?" She recalls, looking towards the girl and pinching her lips up at the side, knowingly.

Brittany grins and narrows her eyes. "Well, I didn't think you'd ever talk to me again," she looks down. "Not after what I said."

Santana swears she hears something resembling sadness in the other girl's tone, but shrugs it off. Think it's probably just her imagination. "I'm here now. Ask away."

"No. I don't think I'm going too."

"Why?"

Blue eyes brighten. "I think I'm going to like discovering thing about you."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

There's more truth in that sentence than Brittany knows. And Santana feels guilt twinge inside her stomach at the memory of the bet.

"Nah," Brittany disagrees, tilting her head to the side and zoning in on Santana like she's seeing straight through her defences. "I'm sure."

Santana gulps and frowns, but Brittany resumes eating. Heat pricks at the back of her eyelids for some strange reason and she clears her throat like it'll make the discomfort go away. It might be because she feels guilty. It might be because her she's in a situation she doesn't know how to handle, and her body's freaking out on her. Or it might be because for the first time in... Well, _forever, _someone outside her family is looking at her and not judging her.

But in some ways, that kind of bothers her. Considering that wasn't how Brittany used to look at her.

"Why are you giving me a second chance?"

Brittany stills, stares at her carton for three excruciatingly long seconds before sliding her carton onto the side table. She claps her hands together, folds her legs until she's sitting cross legged and facing Santana. A heavy sigh escapes her lips, and empathy (or is it sympathy?) flashes behind blue eyes.

"Some people deserve a second chance. But everyone deserves a first one."

Brown eyes narrow as confusion races through Santana's body. "A first one?"

Tentatively, Brittany sucks in her lips and reaches over, placing a hand over Santana's which is clutching the chopsticks. She looks down at their skin contact and doesn't have time to prevent the small tug at her lips; forming a pleased smile and a little sigh. She doesn't know if Brittany heard, or feels the same, but she doesn't look up. Just in case.

"I was talking to Sugar, and she told me that everyone's different outside of school," Brittany explains, staring deeply into brown eyes. "She said you were _especially _different."

"Why did you listen?"

"I didn't," Brittany removes her hand and picks up her carton again. Breaking their moment but seeming unaware that she did. "Not at first, anyway. But when I said those things about you, I saw something I'd only seen on the day we first met."

"What was that?"

Brittany's eyes drift upward. "Vulnerability," but sink down just as quickly.

Feeling entirely uncomfortable about this situation, and the fact that Fernando and Madison are in the room too, Santana widens her eyes, shakes her head and licks her lips. She returns to her carton of Chinese food and takes a large mouthful, humming in content as she munches.

Brittany glances up at the sound. "Is that nice?"

"Yeah," Santana mumbles through a mouthful. "Chicken Chow Mein is like, _the best._"

"No, way. It's all about Singapore Noodles."

"But they're spicy?"

Brittany shrugs. "They're not that bad."

"Nah," Santana scrunches her nose in distaste. "I wouldn't like them."

"Wait," a pale hand covers Santana's just as it's bringing a mouthful of chicken and noodle up to her mouth. "You've never tried mine?"

"No," brown eyes flicker from side to side. "It always had a chilli rating on the side and I don't really like spicy things."

She's about to frown in disapproval when she hears laughter from the other girl. Light, heavenly laughter that makes her stomach flip and heart clench with joy. It's strange reaction to have to a friggin' _laugh, _but it's so cute and adorable that she can't help but giggle herself. Brittany looks up through her glasses, but doesn't question the outburst as she scoops up another mouthful – still chuckling – and leans over.

"Here, try."

The laughter dies down until all Santana can hear is the low volume of the cartoon on TV and Brittany's breathing as it blankets her face. It _really _doesn't help that the other girl is like inches away from her face because now she's trying so hard to focus on _not _staring at her lips instead of where the chopstick clutching the food is.

So that's why instead of going in her mouth, it bumps her chin and she feels warm sauce coat her bottom lip and just below. And now she looks like a total idiot. _Brilliant._

"Shit," she says, yanking the edge of her lips down as she glances to their siblings. But neither have moved so she's in the safe zone. She doesn't need to blamed for another curse word Fernando's learned. Apparently seven year old's only need to hear something once before it's eternally engrained in their mind.

"Lemme get it," Brittany drops her chopsticks back inside her cartons and Santana freezes as pale hand comes to rest on her thigh, supporting the weight.

She watches as Brittany gets closer, face inching towards her. And then it's like there's not enough oxygen in the room to satisfy her lung's needs. Her heartbeat picks up considerably so and despite it being fine two seconds ago, her mouth's running dry and bridging a parallel between the Sahara desert. A finger curls underneath her chin as hot breath hits her jaw, and then a thumb swipes across her bottom lip like it's the most normal thing in the world.

That's the turning point. The turning point where Brittany realises how close they are. Of how she's grasping onto Santana's chin and running her thumb pad over a plump bottom lip despite there not being anything there anymore. Of how close they are and of how neither of them seem to be able to pull out of this weird daze. Like there's a bubble surrounding their bodies, skin tight, and now they can't move.

Santana gulps, eyes darting between deep pools of blue and the hand resting on her thigh feels hot and heavy. Almost as if it's going to burn through the fabric and mark her skin. They're just staring at each other, not doing anything else but breathe in each other's air.

But Santana knows where this is leading. She can see the finish line right in front of her. She can envision the dissatisfaction on Quinn's face as three hundred dollars is pushed into her palm and feel the sense of pride and boost of self-confidence for winning _another _bet. One that was harder than the rest.

Except she can't do it. It hits her in the stomach, low and fast like someone jabbed her in the gut and she pulls away, turning her head and blinking away the weird fuzziness that's coating her brain and making her sight waver. Next to her, Brittany moves away, slightly confused and returns to eating to fill the awkwardness between them.

* * *

Maddie and Fernando went into the den around an hour ago to watch Beauty and the Beast, leaving Santana and Brittany to the TV and the awkwardness that neither have broken since it begun.

Stretching her arms into the air, Santana looks over her shoulder and back down the hall towards the den. Or where she assumes it is, and then back to the clock. It's only 10pm, but that's like _way _past Fernando's bed time and so they should probably get going soon. If not, her mom is going to rip her head off when Fern refuses to get up in the morning.

Then again, if she leaves now it's not like he's going to get _that _much more sleep, anyway. If she's going to do something wrong, she might as well do it well.

"I think they're asleep," Santana mumbles, turning her attention back towards the blonde.

Brittany yawns and nods, blinking sleepily. "Yeah. Madison always falls asleep during Beauty and the Beast," she clasps her fingers together in front of her and then raises them upwards, stretching like Santana did a second ago.

Brown eyes immediately lock onto the small slither of creamy skin that reveals itself with the fabric riding up and suddenly it's like the room's too hot. Her collar begins to itch and she twists her head away quickly, squeezing her eyes shut like it'll erase the last two seconds from her memory. Her mind feels dizzy as she's trying her hardest _not _to look in that direction. The direction with achingly soft looking skin that's just screaming to be caressed.

Brittany looks over towards her, pulling her forehead together as she finishes her stretch and sinks back down again. Santana sucks in a sharp breath and waits.

"Have you ever seen it?"

Santana blinks. Even she thought her leering was obvious. "No," she answers, slowly. "I think it's depressing."

"It is depressing," Brittany agrees. "At first."

"Well it's a _Disney _movie, obviously it'll have happy ending," Santana shrugs. "I just don't have time for the other crap in between."

Brittany gives her a '_seriously?' _look. "It's not crap."

"Well it's lonely," Santana explains, feeling the atmosphere sink around her. "He's lonely," it comes out as a whisper.

The blonde studies her seriously for about three seconds, biting her lip and narrowing her eyes before speaking. "Well he wouldn't have to be lonely if he'd lower his guard."

"Maybe he doesn't want to lower his guard," Santana retorts, crossing her arms.

"But that's the point of the story," Brittany tilts her head to the side and pulls her brows together. "The beast needs to meet that someone who changes him. Who makes him want to open up and let his guard down. That's the happy ending."

The feeling that _maybe _they're not actually talking about Beauty and the Beast creeps into Santana's skin and she turns, sucking in her bottom lip and squinting like that's going to make her see things clearer. It does help actually. Because she sees the knowing blue staring right back at her, and feels something hit her straight in the stomach, like a punch. Brittany's calling her on her shit. Standing up to the challenge and telling her exactly what she needs to do.

She's definitely not comfortable with this.

"Yeah, well some people are better off alone," she grunts out and feels something curl around her heart like a wall. The guards are coming back up.

It's then that Fernando staggers back into the room with ruffled hair and sleep filled eyes. Santana watches Brittany snap her mouth shut, swallowing the words before they can escape and she feels a wave of relief wash through her. Sure, she kind of wants to know what the blonde was going to say – but she doesn't need anything to make the guilt increase. Knowing as much about Brittany as she does, she knows it was something nice and supportive. And there's no way she can get through completing this bet... This _fucking _bet that she's beginning to wish she never even made-

Wait, what?

"Tana, I'm tired."

Santana shakes her head, snapping herself out the daze and stands. "Yeah," she looks towards the clock. "It's way past your bedtime anyway, squirt."

Fernando nods and Maddie comes traipsing in only seconds later, stumbling towards Brittany and sagging into her sister's arms. It only takes a few seconds for the smaller blonde to tuck into the corner of the sofa, hands underneath her head acting like a pillow and for little snores to escape her lips.

"Okay," Brittany runs her hands through her sister's hair once before standing.

Santana grabs Fernando's hand, crouches until she can lift him by his thigh and hoist him around her hip. He buries his head into her neck, sucking his thumb into his mouth and begins to breathe soundly underneath her jaw. She cuddles his back, supporting him with one arm as she heads towards the door with Brittany in toe. With her free hand, she opens the door and steps onto the stoop, pausing to turn back to Brittany hesitantly. It's not like she doesn't know what to say... It's just she doesn't know how to say it. Saying thank you to someone who she knows will be there, bright and early on Monday morning is like... Non-existent.

"Tonight," Santana pauses by shrugging Fernando further up her body. "It was, um," she clenches her jaw, unable to find the right way to say it. "It was fun."

Brittany stares at her, thoughtfully. "Yeah..." she trails off.

_Let's do it again some time _does spring to mind, but Santana's not exactly up for saying it. Not since Brittany kind of scares the crap out of her, and since Santana's pretty sure every second she spends around the blonde, the more her walls come down. And needing the plan to work, she can't have that happen. Not if she wants to win this stupid fucking bet.

Because that's all it is, right? Just a bet.

Santana offers a small smile and then turns away, readying herself to step down the stairs when slender fingers curl around her bicep and stop her. Unsure, she turns and looks towards Brittany's who's staring at her with an uncomfortable amount of certainty and knowledge, and judging by that expression, she looks as uneasy as she thinks she does.

"You know, some people are better off alone," Brittany says, firmly before leaning in, fingers tightening around Santana's bicep.

Santana stiffens when lips brush against the shell of her ear, and inhales the distinct smell of vanilla wafting off Brittany's skin. _God, _the girl even smells fucking amazing.

"But you're not one of them."

The whisper repeats over and over inside her mind. Even as she pulls away, stares into blue eyes and somehow forgets to breathe as her feet begin to move backwards and down the stairs with an ease she didn't know she had. Brittany offers a small smile a second before stepping inside the house and closing the door, and Santana feels something click in her brain as she places her sleeping brother inside the car and straps him up.

Those words haunt her the entire way home.


	8. Part Eight

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Eight]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **5.6k

* * *

_Some people are meant to be alone. But you're not one of them._

What the hell does that even mean? _Jesus. _It's been on playing her mind since she pulled out of Oaklands Avenue and drove home, accidentally missing the turning towards her house so she had to go around the roundabout again. Wasn't exactly a big problem. Just frustrating.

Anyway, now it's Monday. Which means back to school. And for the first time in like, _years, _she's actually nervous when she's pulling into the parking lot. Sugar's there, and so is Quinn, which makes her want to make a comment like _how nice of you to show up _or _another bitch fit scheduled for today? _To the blonde. Except that they haven't spoken since Friday when Quinn had that weird freak out and switched moods faster than Charlie Sheen. So a snarky comment probably wouldn't be welcomed warmly.

So, yeah, as per usual, she climbs out the car and heads inside; Quinn and Sugar flanking her. Her arms are crossed, books wedged between them and her chest and she keeps her head held high as she heads down the corridors. Whereas she usually prides on the gazes and glances she receives; today she just wants to shrivel away or shout for them to fuck off. They spend way too much time wanting to know about her life when they should fucking focus on their own. Her life isn't that interesting, after all.

(Although she does think recently that's changing.)

"So did you catch Jersey Shore last night?" Quinn asks in a tone that sounds _way _too nice.

Sugar grins and nods. "Yeah. Snooki was like outta control. It was insane."

They pull up outside Santana's locker, and Santana fiddles with the combo as she replies; "I missed it."

Silence settles in and it's not until five seconds enduring it that she realises exactly what she revealed. Or what she said but didn't say. If that makes sense.

"Wait, what?" It's Quinn.

Piling her books into her locker, she shrugs. In the back of her mind she gets the urge to ask Sugar why she isn't asking the same question; but sometimes Sugar zones out, or doesn't pay enough attention. She puts it down to that.

"I was out," she replies casually.

"Where?"

Santana licks her lips. "Fernando was at a friends house," she explains. "I went to pick him up and got talking to the family."

It's not a lie. Just not the _whole _truth.

"Right..." Quinn draws out the word, making it sound like _bullshit _than what it actually is.

Santana just glares at the blonde, challenging her to say something more but Sugar cuts in. Literally. Like, actually stands between them sideways and twists her head back and forth with a wary smile.

"What lesson do you guys have?" Sugar asks cheerily. It's _way _too high pitched to be real and Santana almost laughs at the attempt to slice through the tension. But she still looks down to her Cheerios folder, slips out her schedule and flicks her eyes around until she finds the block for period one on a Monday.

"Spanish," Quinn interjects in a grunt.

Santana rolls her eyes because obviously with this tension between them, the first lesson of the week would _have _to be one she shares with Quinn. And sits next to her in. The world just wouldn't function properly if it didn't create awkward, tense situations for her.

"Yeah," Santana nods and twists her way past Sugar, heading for her class.

She doesn't bother waiting for Quinn.

* * *

"Bienvenida clase."

Mr Martinez round his desk, smiling at all the students as they file in and take their seats. Santana slaps her Cheerios folder onto the desk before swinging around and taking a seat. She leans back, crossing her arms and prepares herself for _another _dull hour of Spanish. At least Mr Schuester isn't here, though. With Mr Martinez, she has a fighting chance of gaining some enjoyment from staring at his ass when he walks down the aisles between the desks. He may be a guy, but he has a feminine butt. Good one at that.

Plus, there's not exactly much else to do in this stupid room apart from stare at the Spanish notice board, which is _ridiculously _badly spelt. It actually lacks _so _much grammar, Santana kind of finds it offensive.

Quinn walks into the room, smiling at Puck who walks past the classroom door and smacks her ass for good measure._ Great, _they're back together. She thinks at least she won't have a bitch fit thrown at her any time soon. Hopefully. Puck's there for that now. For the moment anyway.

Rachel Berry sits two desks in front of Santana and Quinn, and even though, _yeah, _in the past Santana found it amusing to ball up wads of paper, chew them for a bit and then fire them through an empty pen tube at the girl's head – now it just doesn't seem that interesting or enjoyable. It's not like she _likes _the girl, it's just she's been bullying Rachel for so long that it's just got a bit tedious.

But apparently the same doesn't apply for Quinn.

The blonde walks past, her lips curling into a half-snarl as she ducks her head and cocks a brow mischievously. She walks up to Rachel's desk and stops only for a second. A second long enough to hook her foot into the brunette's back and latch her fingers around the girl's pencil case, pulling until the contents of both spills out and falls to the floor.

A while back, Santana would have laughed and made a comment of approval.

But now, all she does is purses her lips and shakes her head. Being mean is fun and all. She'll freely admit that. She spends half her damn time insulting people just because she's ridiculously witty and quick with the comments. But there's a line which even she won't cross anymore. And that includes pulling a 6th grader and emptying someone's pencil case and bag just because they want to be a bully.

It's just not funny anymore.

Mr Martinez shoots Quinn a narrowed glare, but Rachel just ducks underneath the table with a large sigh to pick up her stuff. "To start to day, I have an announcement," the teacher claps his hands together. "We have a new student joining our class."

Santana picks her nail file from inside her folder and begins to work on her nails. Ignoring Mr Martinez at the same time as he addresses the class. She doesn't really care for what he has to say. Plus, if she looks up to him, and he catches her eye, she always feels that uncomfortable slushie feeling creep down the back of her spine. The last two times weren't exactly fun so this time she's going to make a point _not _to look up.

"She's recently moved to McKinley and has excelled in Mrs Warner's class."

She feels her ears perk up as Quinn slides into the seat next to her, but makes no further movement apart from switching to her index finger and beginning to file again.

"Welcome, Brittany Pierce."

Her head snaps up so fast she's pretty sure she's gonna have to go see a chiropractor to sort that out. Blue eyes are staring straight at her, and she feels something flip inside her stomach. Except knowing she's at school, she bites down the urge to smile and just cocks a brow like she's not interested at all. She feels Quinn watch her from the sideline and tops off her performance with a believable scoff. Quinn buys it, because she smirks and settles back into her chair, relieving Santana from the study.

Santana almost feels mean.

"Miss Fabray?" Mr Martinez leans back, allowing his butt to rest onto the ledge of the desk and palms brace his body.

Quinn pulls her forehead together. "Yes?"

"As Miss Lopez has the highest grade in the class, we will be putting Miss Pierce next to her in case she needs some help to adjust."

Santana stills, slowly lifting her head. "What?"

Brittany looks to the floor, hiding the offence she feels but Santana sees it. Guilt pangs in her chest like a guitar string and she pushes her tongue up against the inside of her teeth to help swallow it. That's not fair. Brittany knows, especially after Saturday, that neither of them can say anything about their newly found friendship... Or acquaintanceship, or whatever the hell it is. It'll ruin them both. In completely different ways.

"Brittany will be sitting next to you, Santana," Mr Martinez approaches their desk but Brittany stays at the front, shuffling uncomfortably as she's basically in the spotlight. He turns to Quinn, "Which means Quinn, I'd like you to move and sit next to..." his eyes flit across the room quickly. "...Rachel, please."

Hazel eyes widen, flickering between Mr Martinez and the desk containing said brunette. "Wha-, I ca-, Rachel?" She finishes in a high pitched whine, pointing towards the girl and dropping her mouth in disbelief. "You want me to sit next to _her_?"

Santana raises both eyebrows but says nothing. Mr Martinez tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes as if he knows something about Quinn. Almost exactly the same way he did when Santana met him.

"Is that a problem, Miss Fabray?" He crosses his arms. "Because if it is I'm sure Jacob wouldn't mind having you as his desk buddy."

Quinn's eyes widen comically and she turns around quickly, bracing one arm on the desk and the other on the back of her chair as she stares at the afro'd Jewish boy at the back. He looks like he's about two seconds away from needing a napkin to wipe his drool. Quinn grimaces and scoffs with disgust, but Santana has to suck in her lips to restrain the chuckle because _shit, _she may not be the biggest fan of Mr Martinez but she's certainly on her way now.

"No, Rachel's _fine,_" the blonde grits out, snatching her books and hastily making her way over to Rachel's desk where she slumps down, and shuffles as far away as physically possible without moving to the adjacent desk.

"Now take a seat, Brittany. Santana will help you if you need it."

Santana sits straighter in her chair, sucking in a deep breath as she places both arms on the table and fiddles with her pen. The chair scoots and Brittany sits down next to her, warily. Good to know she's not the only one that's not sure how to approach this situation.

"Right, clase, today I'll be running you through our assignment," Mr Martinez claps his hands together and heads for the the front of the class. Santana swears she sees him look over his shoulder at her and Brittany, but shakes it off. Paranoia's a bitch.

"You'll be working with a partner-

Quinn snaps her head around to look at Santana with wide, panicked eyes. But kind of more in the _you're my partner _way. Rachel shrinks further into her chair with furrowed brows.

"-Who is sitting next to you, Miss Fabray," Mr Martinez sighs, noticing the stare.

Santana keeps quiet, which is unusual for her because by now she should be protesting and yelling that she has an assignment to do-

(Which she fucking hates because they're the most pointless things in the world. Why be given work to do at home? Concentrating in _school _is hard enough even with a teacher breathing down her neck. At home she just wants to relax so there's definitely no will do it there. She never got the point of homework.)

-and that she has to work with a _choir geek _as her bitch-side would say_. _But instead her lips are zipped shut and she's twirling one thumb over the other absently.

Sure, she's only had like two lessons with the guy, but Mr Martinez already knows her well enough (or has heard enough about her) to have knowledge on her rebellious side. The rebellious side she uses to challenge teachers, back talk them and zone into their emotional and physical weaknesses to ensure there'll be no further problems.

"Is that okay, with you-" He asks when he comes towards her table. "-Miss Lopez?"

She feels Brittany shuffle uncomfortably in the seat beside her own and Quinn glare at her from across the room. And suddenly she doesn't know what to do with herself. On one hand, she can object, therefore keeping her reputation and having an overall easier day. Or she can just sit down and shut up, get on with the work and deal with the whispers and Quinn's wrath and bitch fit over why she _didn't _object, later.

Usually, she'd never hesitate. Wouldn't even think twice about replying _"fuck no it's not okay." _But this time, she feels something curdle in her throat and weigh on her chest. She's not sure if it's excitement or guilt.

In some ways, she guesses it's because there's no way in hell she's going to win this bet if she bitches about being with Brittany. The whole point of it _is _to be with the blonde, and sometimes that means giving into something she wouldn't usually give into.

To get something she's never had, she's going to have to do something she's never done.

Which means conforming to whatever Mr Martinez asks of her.

"Yes, Sir," she replies with a blank expression. She doesn't miss Brittany's forehead pulling together and mouth dropping in slight disbelief. Even she can't quite believe she was just even remotely polite to a teacher. That shit just doesn't happen often.

But if Mr Martinez is surprised by her answer, he doesn't show it. "Good."

Santana just offers the smallest of smiles and sinks back into her chair as their assignment is explained. She's not sure if the weird feeling inside her stomach is because she gets to spend more time with Brittany, or if because she's progressing further into the bet. Which means she's halfway into buying another pair of Jimmy Choos, or most of the way into buying a new accessory for her car.

She hates that she doesn't know how she's feeling.

* * *

Brittany's on her feet and heading towards the door a second before the bell rings. Santana does wonder how a girl can have such impeccable timing as she watches the girl glide out the room. She also has a fleeting thought of what she did wrong since the blonde practically sprinted out the room. The only person she's ever known to move that fast is Edward in Twilight; and that was just because he was a vampire with super powers or some shit. So that doesn't really cou-

Wait, did she just make a _Twilight _reference?

Pulling her brows together, she collects her books and zips up her Cheerios folder until all her belongings are clear of the desk whilst the rest of the class makes their way out. She lets out a heavy sigh and pushes back on her chair; it making an unpleasantly loud scraping noise against the linoleum and then stands. Quinn brushes past her, glaring slightly and she just _knows _she's going to have to deal with that at some point. That'll be fun.

Sometimes she seriously thinks it'd be easier to be friends with Rachel Berry.

Mr Martinez shoots her a small smile as she clutches her folder to her chest and walks through the aisle, heading for the door. Luckily, Spanish is the last lesson which means she gets to leave now. Which will quell the uneasy feeling crawling around every inch of her skin, but unfortunately it won't do anything to minimise the thoughts of a certain blonde looping over and over in her mind.

She steps out the class and just about to turn when something catches her attention in the corner of her eye. Her mouth drops open and she nearly runs full pelt into the door frame when she looks at it again. Just to confirm her thoughts. Sure enough, though, standing to the right on the opposite wall, is Brittany. With one foot planted on the wall and head resting against it as she lets her lips tug up into a soft smile aimed straight at Santana.

It's an innate reaction to glance around to see how many people are in the hallway, but it being a Monday, and the end of school, the majority of the students sprinted as soon as they heard the bell. So it's just them. Alone. Santana inwardly begins to panic.

"Hey," Brittany whispers, pushing off the wall and taking a step forward.

Santana narrows her eyes, ignoring the fleeting thought of whether the Glee kids are about to ambush her and licks her lips. "Um.. Hey."

"I know this is weird," Brittany says, eyes flickering from side to side nervously. "I just wanted to check you were okay-" she pauses and takes in a shaky breath. "-with the assignment."

Santana swallows. "You wanted to check if I was okay with assignment?" She repeats for clarification.

"Well, yeah," Brittany nods. "I mean, I know if you had a choice you'd want to work with Quinn but I don't have any say in who Mr Martinez picks for partn-"

"Brittany," Santana steps towards the other girl and palms her forearm. The blonde's mouth closes shut and blue eyes bore into brown with uncertainty. Santana almost snaps her hand back. She didn't even mean to touch the girl, it just sort of happened. "Are you trying to ask me if I'm okay with working with you?"

"Well," Brittany bites her bottom lip. "Yeah."

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because I stole Quinn's place."

"You're asking if it's cool we're working together because Mr Martinez chose to move Quinn and put you next to me? When it was completely out of your hands?" Santana asks, still suspicious.

Brittany squints as if she's confused. "Well... Yeah. I mean I thought you'd be pissed-"

"I'm not," Santana cuts in, her palm feeling ice cold as soon as she removes it from the other girl. "I'm not pissed. I would..." the word catches in her throat but she pushes through as a strange whim of kindness flows through her. "..._Like_ to work with you."

The words feel strange as they come out her mouth. She thinks that maybe if they were in a different setting, say Brittany's house or her own, they wouldn't.

"Are you sure?" Brittany's tone has lightened a little with hope, maybe?

Santana smiles and gestures for them to walk. "Yeah," they begin to head towards the parking lot. "It's fine."

"Sorry." It comes out through a long exhale and she turns, eyeing the blonde curiously.

"What for?"

Brittany stops, grabs her bicep and says, "Doing this."

She doesn't even have a chance to ask why before arms are wrapping around her neck, pulling her into a tight embrace that she's powerless to resist. The scent of soft vanilla wafts up from Brittany's skin, and the faint smell of coconut from the girl's shampoo joins a second later. A warmth spreads across the entire length and width of her skin and her heart begins to pick up from the close proximity. She's not even sure how to react to this. Does she hug back? Her arms are slightly frozen, so does she attempt to? Risking the possibility that she could look like a complete idiot?

_Shit._

Before she can even make a decision, Brittany's stepping away and offering a small smile that kind of says _you didn't hug me back, _but she doesn't dwell on it. She can't. There's already more than enough thoughts of Brittany inside her mind, and with that added, it'll send her into overload.

Santana curls her lips up at the side into a small smile as she turns away and heads down the steps. She reaches into her pocket to grab her car keys, but then becomes acutely aware of the lack of footsteps as she approaches her car. She even cocks her head to the side, perks her ear and slows her own movement to try and increase her hearing – but there's no mistake.

Brittany's not going home?

She turns, and sees the blonde sitting on the bottom of the steps, tapping her foot and drumming her fingertips along the spine of her folder. Blue eyes are searching mindlessly around the parking lot and Santana ducks her head and narrows her eyes. What is Brittany doing?

"Uh, Brittany?" Brittany snaps her head around and Santana takes a few steps towards the girl. "Why aren't you going home?"

"I don't have a car."

A perfectly shaped eyebrow arches. "What? Why?"

"It really did only last fifteen miles," Brittany responds, grinning.

Santana takes a few seconds to click and then begins to chuckle. "I did warn you," she offers with a smile.

The blonde shrugs, but she's still grinning. "I know, should've trusted you."

It's stupid, because they're talking about fixing a freakin' car, but Santana still hears the negativity to that sentence and how her heart twitches in reaction. Just the mere thought that Brittany didn't trust her about fixing her car, kind of makes her wonder what else she won't trust her about. Now she thinks it's even stupider. They barely know each other, and no-one trusts anyone after a few measly weeks – that'd just be naïve and ridiculous. It's just the fact that Brittany made a point _not _to trust Santana's word, even over something petty like a car, and that kind of really fucking sucks.

She scalds her own thoughts and rolls her eyes at them. Sometimes she doesn't even know what she's going on about.

"Anyway," Santana clears her throat. "Why are you waiting here?"

Brittany doesn't seem to have noticed Santana's internal strop. "My mom's picking me up after she gets off work."

Santana sucks her lips in, in thought. It's only just gone 3, and usually people don't get off work till like 5 at the earliest. Then again, she knows nothing about Brittany's family. Well, she does know that the Pierce parents graduated in '87 together (she assumes they were high school sweethearts) but she's not exactly going to tell the girl that is she? Damn, she probably knows more about Brittany's parents than Brittany does.

Anyway, yeah, she probably needs to respond before Brittany asks what she's thinking about, and then she'll have to reply that she was reciting the Pierce parents history in her head.

_That _would be weird.

"What time is that?"

Brittany sucks in her bottom lip and takes out her phone. "After 6," she replies, looking down in disappointment like she's just realized how long that is.

"Wouldn't it be easier to like, walk home?"

"It would," Brittany agrees, glancing up. "But I've just moved here and I have trouble driving back to my house, so..." she shrugs and purses her lips like she's trying not to grin.

Santana lets the smile etch it's way across her face and then giggles. "Britt," she says, lowly. Ducking her head until blue eyes lock with brown. "Do you want a lift home?"

"That'd be awesome," Brittany responds like she knew Santana was going to offer. "But I've gotta pick up Maddie and I know Fernando's in her last class because she wouldn't stop going on about it."

Acting on instinct, Santana grins, offers her hand out to the other girl and helps her up. She doesn't realise what she's just done until they're halfway towards the car, but even then she won't react. If she does, Brittany will question her tensing and she'll probably respond with something stupid. Brittany kind of has that effect on her.

"Yeah, I've gotta pick up Fernando anyway."

"Awesome," Brittany grins widely as she quickens her step to round the BMW. "Then we can work on our assignment back at my place."

Santana sort of just stands watching the blonde in awe. Watches as Brittany opens the passenger door, leans on the back window to curve half her body inside the car to throw her back into the back seat. Her mouth drops open when Brittany peeks up over the top of the car, grins and then slides into the car like they do this all the time. Seriously, this girl just manages to surprise Santana all the freaking time. There's a part of her eagerly anticipating the next move that'll shock her seeing as Brittany intrigues her more and more every day.

She grins, shakes her head and then whips out her phone. Sending her mother a quick text saying not to worry about picking Fernando up as she is.

* * *

It's weird how _not _weird it is walking into Brittany's house, especially considering she's only been here once.

"Yo, squirts," Santana calls as Fernando and Maddie scramble into the house, kick off their shoes speedily and practically sprint towards the den with excited smiles on their faces. "Stop," she draws out the word and the seven year olds comply to her demand. "Now turn," they do so, ducking their heads like they're expecting a scalding. "Do you have any homework?"

"No..."

"No..."

Brittany giggles from behind her as she takes a step up and taps her foot impatiently on the ground, arching a brow and trying to look as menacing as she can without _actually _looking like she's about to tear their heads off. Fernando and Maddie smile guiltily and wring their hands together in front of them, sharing looks that Santana knows only too well. The _I'm lying _look that Santana basically invented.

"How much?"

Fernando looks up through wide eyes that look way too innocent to be sincere. "We don't have any, Tana."

Brittany joins Santana, their arms brushing as they both stand in similar stances. Crossed arms and _we know you're lying_ expressions. "Fernando..." the blonde then turns to her sister. "Maddie..."

Fernando and Maddie both pout, frown and then scuff their socks along the floor. "Math," the both mutter in sync. The smaller blonde snaps her head up and continues with, "But it's only one side."

"Then you should do it otherwise no play time or dinner." Santana raises both eyebrows like she's pissed.

"San," Brittany says in that dipping tone. Santana finds herself looking away like and obliging without any fuss. What the hell?

"How about this," Brittany crouches in front of the children and cradles one of their hands in each of hers. "If you go and do your homework, I'll bring in some milk and cookies and after you finish you can choose any DVD you want?"

Both the children's face light up considerably so.

"_But," _Brittany continues. "You have to do it to your best ability otherwise I'll give you to Santana and you'll have to do what she says."

Fernando and Maddie's eyes widen comically and their mouths drop open.

"Is that a deal?"

The two seven year olds nod furiously and then scamper off towards the den with their backpacks still on. Santana shakes her head but doesn't stop the smile.

"It's like playing good cop, bad cop with you," Brittany teases with affection in her tone. "Me being the good cop, obviously."

Santana pinches her lips up at the side and shrugs. It's not like she's not used to being the bad one. "Someone's gotta be the mean one."

"Not all the time," Brittany throws a look over her shoulder as she walks into the living room. "Sometimes you can be good and I can be bad."

"_Yeah," _Santana scoffs, switching the hand holding her folder. "I can _totally _imagine you being bad," she says sarcastically as she throws herself down onto the sofa, kicking both feet out in front of her.

Brittany throws her bag down, lifts both hands and cocks her hip out whilst they rest upon them. She stares at Santana with narrowed blue eyes, flashing with challenge and smirks evilly. Santana feels her throat thicken and pinches her thighs together. Now all she's doing is imagining Brittany doing _very, very _bad things and _ohmy-_

"You don't think I can be bad?" The blonde says huskily, cocking a brow and running her tongue along the sharp edges of her teeth.

Santana gulps audibly and all words are at loss. "I-I..."

Brittany grins at the lack of words and moves until she's standing in front of Santana, staring down at her through dark blue eyes. She bends slight, pressing one hand into the back of the couch next to Santana's hair and widens her smirk. It rips the breath right out of Santana and she sucks in a sharp gasp, where it stays; lodging in her throat as her face roams the expanse of Brittany's neck, collarbones and the skin showing on her shoulders. The urge to reach out and touch the skin surges down her arm like a spark and she sucks in both lips when Brittany leans closer, her eyes darkening and hooding with every millimetre she moves.

When Brittany's about three inches away from Santana, her hot breath hitting Santana's face, curving around her jaw and scraping at Santana's will, she pauses and removes her hands. The room suddenly feels too hot as Santana feels those hands grab at her knees, thumbs making circular motions on the skin as her legs are slowly spread, widening like she's offering herself to the other girl.

Heat flare across Santana's skin as Brittany lowers herself to her knees in between her legs, still staring deeply into brown eyes with a smirk tugging at her lips. Santana's nerves heighten, spark and explode all at the same time and suddenly she becomes hyper-aware of how piping hot arousal is spiralling through her body, curdling down her stomach and bottoming out in her groin. She can feel the special spanx Coach ordered her to wear becoming excruciatingly tight as the blood pumps down to the apex of her thighs, hardening her length.

Brittany leans in, poking out her tongue and running it from the right hand side of her mouth to her left at a painfully slow pace. She runs her hands up Santana's thighs, nails grazing lightly at the skin and stopping at the pleats of Santana's skirt. The hands become hot and heavy, and it shoots straight to Santana's crotch. Usually she's the dominant one when it comes to things like this...

Well, things involving seduction.

But this time, Brittany's doing everything and the boldness, honestly_, _is a _major _turn on. The blonde has literally got Santana's mouth watering and eyes unable to blink with the fear she'll miss even the tiniest thing. Her heart's pounding fast and furious, and the only noise flowing through her ears is the sound of her and Brittany's ragged breathing, intertwining into one and manipulating until Santana's breathing out what Brittany's breathing in and so forth.

"Do you think I can be bad, now?" Brittany whispers seductively, leaning in until her lips are dangerously close to Santana's. Barely a centimetre between them.

Santana doesn't think about the question. She doesn't think about how bold Brittany's being, touching her and leaning into her personal space. She doesn't think about Quinn and this stupid bet. Or how she could win said bet if she just closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to Brittany's.

No, she doesn't think about that.

Instead she just thinks about how she's feeling. Of how Brittany's making her feel. And how her entire body is tingling, sparkling and shining like someone just polished her and found out she was a diamond. She thinks about how she wants to smile, and run her hands through Brittany's hair and feel the silky threads beneath her touch. Of how she craves to have the ability to remember the way her lips feel pressed against Brittany's, smiling, when they're just lying in each other's arms, staring at each other.

She just wants to know what it's like to be Brittany's.

"Y-Yeah..." Santana breathes out like it's the last word she'll ever speak.

It's then that she watches in slow motion how Brittany's eyes flit down her face, landing on her lips and then flicker back up as if she's waiting for Santana to do something.

So Santana does.


	9. Part Nine

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Nine]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **6.7k

* * *

She feels her breath and heart rate rapidly pick up as the decision to kiss Brittany flits through her head. She knows she wants too. _God, _she knows. She can feel it in her stomach. She can see the want in blue eyes, and knows it's in hers too. She can even feel the damn tension between created by both of them urging on the other to give in – but still, she's hesitating.

If neither of them wanted it, one would have pulled away by now, so it's not like she's hesitating out of fear. It's just that now she's here, in reaching distance of having three hundred dollars slapped into her palm and the smug shit-eating grin wiped off Quinn's face, she's not sure she wants it. Not in the way it would happen anyway.

"Britt..." she breathes, leaning forward to tip their foreheads together.

Brittany's eyes don't even widen, and it sends a surge of courage through Santana's body. Now they're touching, skin on skin and their breaths are hot and heavy in each other's mouths, and she knows just how much she wants this. Hell, she's pretty sure she's never wanted something this much before. She can see exactly where this leads if she leans the few inches forward and presses their lips together. It'll lead to more kisses. More visits. More alone time. More touching. Then sex. And then she would have won the bet.

But for once in life... For once in her fucking life, she doesn't to win. Not like this.

Brittany must see the hesitation etching it's way across Santana's face, she must see the battle going on inside Santana's head because she tilts her head to the side, and runs one hand up the other girl's body until slender fingers curl around Santana's neck.

"What's wrong?" she asks, quietly. Almost in a whisper.

"I..." Santana feels the hand hot and heavy on her skin. Like a branding iron and instinctively clutches at Brittany's wrist. "I..."

Later on she's seriously going to regret doing this.

"I'll go get the milk and cookies," she says, pulling at Brittany's wrist and sliding around the blonde until she's standing.

She doesn't even look back to gage Brittany's reaction but can feel the disappointment and confusion sink in even when she enters the kitchen. Banging her head against the wall seems like a really good idea at the moment. The only reason she doesn't is because there'd be a head shaped hole in the dry wall.

And explaining to her mom that she has to pay for damage she made out of sheer frustration (over a girl that's seriously screwing her feelings and making her think she's falling fo- _no_) isn't something she really feels like doing.

* * *

After handing Fernando and Maddie the glasses of milk and plate of cookies, she makes her way back into the living room. She makes a point to go the long way, which involves going through the kitchen and another hallway, just because she needs a little more time. There's always that awkwardness after kissing someone. It's like, natural or some shit. But when you _don't _kiss someone after knowing you were about too... That takes awkward to a whole new level.

She stops in the hallway, with the archway leading towards the living room barely five metres in front of her. She clenches her fists, shakes them out and takes in a deep breath to prepare herself. Something flutters inside her stomach, and whereas usually it's light and fluffy, this time it's got a kind of stinging edge to it. Nerves, she guesses.

"Get it together," she whispers under her breath, scrunching her face together like it's going to release one burst of frustration before she heads inside.

She walks in slowly and feels a flood of panic flush over her body at the sight of Brittany sitting on the couch, legs tucked to her chest and chin resting on her kneecaps. The moment to back out has already gone so she takes in another deep, calming breath and moves around the sofa.

"Hey, Britt Britt."

Brittany turns, offers a small smile and then lowers her legs to the floor, moving to grab her bag from the side of the couch. "We should probably get started on the assignment."

"Sure," Santana clenches her jaw and sits, shuffling to the opposite end until she's as far away from the other girl. The feeling of guilt and defeat flushes through her and she just sags back into the sofa cushions as Brittany begins to talk about the assignment.

* * *

It gets to 9pm and Santana knows it's time to leave. Well, technically she doesn't have to be home for three hours since 12am is her curfew on a school night, but she's with Fernando. He doesn't even have a curfew. Just a bed time. Which, according to her phone, was an hour ago.

But whatever. She's been distracted. Distracted by hovering on the edge of her seat for the good part of four hours, trying to gather up the courage to apologise for the near-kiss incident. If that's even what it was. She thinks it was. _Shit, _what if it wasn't? What if she read the signals wrong?

Damn it. Now she doesn't know whether to apologise or not.

Twisting in her seat, she faces Brittany. "Bri-"

"_If I can't have you. I don't want nobody baby..."_

Santana's mouth clamps shut as Brittany looks at her skeptically, ignoring the ringing cell phone, vibrating erratically on the side table.

"_If I can't have you... ohh-oooh-oh. If I can't have you, I don't want nobody baby."_

The courage slowly seeps out as the song keeps playing, and she feels her throat thicken whilst her mind just screams for her to say it. But she chickens out. She's not even entirely sure what she was going to say anyway. Not really.

"Shouldn't you get that?" She says in replacement.

Brittany squints her eyes, but nods. "Yeah. Two seconds," she holds up a finger and grabs the phone, blue eyes flicking across the screen before back up to brown. "It's Rachel."

"Okay," Santana turns away and breathes out through 'o' shaped lips.

The sofa rises beneath her, and out the corner of her eye she sees Brittany stand, one hand raised to keep the phone to her ear and the other tucked underneath said arm. "Hey, Rach."

Santana taps her foot on the floor; her knee jigging and muscles twitching as she watches Brittany glide around the room. Stopping at the arch leading to the hallway to pick at the wood absent-mindedly, then twirling gracefully and heading towards the kitchen.

"Hmmhmm... Nothing," she hears Brittany answer before the girl disappears behind a wall, which leads to the kitchen. Without thinking, Santana's on her feet and following slowly, edging around the corner and leaning against the door jam as she continues to watch the girl. She plucks at the hem of her Cheerios top with one hand, with the other resting against the opposite bicep and suddenly finds herself mesmerized by the simplicity of Brittany's actions.

She tilts her head to the side, her temple resting against the wood as her eyes stay locked on the blonde. Just watching. Watching how Brittany sways her hips when walking. How the arch of her foot defines itself like an artistic sculpture. How the ridge of her calf muscle becomes prominent with every other step and how her long legs move with a dancers grace.

This girl is like... Beautiful. In every single way.

"I'm just with Santana," Brittany replies and turns, eyes sparkling brightly when they lock with brown. If she's surprised by Santana's presence, she doesn't show it.

Offering a small smile, Santana moves further into the kitchen, eyes still firmly fixed on the other girl. Something flashes behind blue eyes, and Santana grins; no longer feeling the awkwardness between them. She doesn't know what it is. But something about this girl just mesmerises her. Captures her attention and holds on tightly. She's not entirely sure how one simple phone conversation after an awkward few hours can flip her mind so quickly. But it has.

"Hold on," Brittany takes the phone away from her hand, covers the receiver and addresses Santana. "Santana, are you planning on publicly humiliating me in front of the entire student body?"

Santana pulls her eyebrows together and shakes her head, slowly. "No..."

"See," Brittany's talking into the phone again. "I told you. Yes, Rachel. No, Santana's not listening anymore," slender fingers tap along the ridge of the counter top and Brittany shoots Santana a sly smirk. "Yes I'm fine. Not scared at all."

There's only the low humming sound of Rachel replying with a long-winded sentence that probably could be summed up in six words or so, and Brittany moves to the left, and with one hand (and strength Santana didn't know the girl possessed) she hoists herself up onto the counter. Santana's eyes widen at the movement, watching the rippling muscles in Brittany's biceps and she unconsciously moves closer. She twists and leans her butt against the counter directly opposite, bracing both palms out to her side and crossing one ankle over the other. Her eyes trace up creamy arms, over strong shoulders then to protruding collarbones. _God, _Santana now has the overwhelming urge to just press her lips to them and run her tongue up the expanse of Brittany's neck. That thing is like begging to be kissed.

Did she just think that?

"No, Santana's not holding a gun to my head to make me say this," Brittany says and rolls her eyes; inadvertently breaking Santana from her thoughts.

Perfectly shaped eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline, and Santana lets out a small noise which sounds like a scoff, even though she's smiling. She can just imagine the rigorous conversation Brittany's going through to ensure her safety. After all, it is pretty strange that Santana's round someone's house that isn't Quinn or Sugar's. Even stranger after she asked Rachel to help find out about the Pierce history.

(Technically just Brittany's, but it ended up being more of a family search.)

"Santana's fine. Nope, not bitchy," Brittany shakes her head, bites her lip and looks down when Rachel continues. Santana instantly becomes curious, and takes a step forward, then turns until her hipbones are brushing the other girl's knees. "Just quiet..." Brittany continues in a whisper, blue eyes flickering up to lock with curious brown.

Santana mouths _'just quiet_?' to Brittany who gives a small shrug and a _'well you are being quiet' _kind of look. She just purses her lips, pinches them up at the side and raises a brow. She's so not being quiet. The only reason there's lack of conversation is because there's been an awkwardness between them ever since the stupid near kiss moment. Or whatever the hell it was.

"Okay, Rachel," Brittany looks up through her lashes, biting on her lip nervously. "Yeah, sure. I'll see you tomorrow."

There's the low hum again and then Brittany pulls the phone away from her ear and flips it down. Tentatively, she places it down and Santana taps her foot quietly, crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. Waiting for the other girl to say something about the quiet comment. But she never does.

So Santana steps in and takes the matters into her own hands. "You think I'm being quiet?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't know why," Brittany draws out the words and shrugs again, gripping the edges of the counter tightly. "I thought you were mad at me."

Brow eyes widen comically. "Mad?"

"Yeah, because we nearly..." she trails off slowly, eyes widening and ducking her head.

Santana feels blood and heat rush to her face and almost needs to slap herself to push it away. I mean, _shit_, she never has that reaction. Not to something like a near freaking kiss. That's like Elementary school stuff. Although, talking of Elementary school, she's pretty sure she hasn't blushed this hard since then.

"Yeah," she finishes off for the other girl when the silence sets in. "But I'm not... Mad at you I mean," she clarifies.

Brittany's face twists with uncertainty, but two seconds later it's gone and she offers a small, relieved smile. "Okay," she breathes out. "Awesome."

Santana grins. "Awesome," she repeats, before offering out her hand, palm up. "Come on, let's go finish the assignment."

Thousands of sparks surge around her body when Brittany presses a palm into her own. She sucks in a shaky breath, eyes flitting down to where they're touching and feels a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. But then she curls her fingers, smoothing them over the soft skin of the back of Brittany's hand and steps back, leaving enough room for the taller girl to hop down.

Once Brittany's down from the counter, and Santana's stopped herself from gazing into sparkling blue eyes, they turn and begin to walk back to the living room where their books and school work are scattered across the width of the floor.

"Hey, Santana?"

Santana makes a noise of acknowledgement, but is still entirely focused on how they're hands are still clutching each other, and haven't moved since she helped Brittany down from the counter.

"Would you care if I was mad at you?"

Usually, she'd wait until they were sitting and distracted by their books before they answered. Because it's been like years since she's cared if someone was mad at her. It's been years since she's cared that anyone was _anything _for her. But this time, which is becoming an overused phrase with Brittany, she stops, half-way between the kitchen and half-way between the living room and turns until she's facing the taller girl. She tilts her head to the side, allowing the curiosity to wash through her as she studies Brittany and tries to find out the underlying question beneath those words. After all, that is a rather strange question to ask.

"Yes," she admits, with even hesitating. "I would."

A pink flush creeps across Brittany's cheeks, and she dips her head. Santana can tell she's embarrassed and has the almost overwhelming urge to stroke away the lock of blonde hair that's just fallen across Brittany's face. But that's a classic movie gesture. One that she knows leads to them staring deeply into each other's eyes and then leaning in simultaneously.

"Why?" Brittany asks in a tiny voice, her eyes focused on where their hands are connected.

Santana's just about to answer, when the feeling of her palm being upturned and fingers sliding through her own shoots up her arm. It pulls a strange shaky breath from the deepest crevices of her lungs and she widens her eyes, not quite believing she just did that from a fucking hand hold.

"Why, what?" She asks, unwilling to answer yet as anything she says will come out through a stutter and make her look like an idiot.

Brittany snaps her head up and looks at Santana, studies her for a long, quiet moment before replying. "Why would care if I was mad at you?" She breathes out, like she's unsure she even wants to ask the question.

It feels ridiculously good yet stupidly horrible to have that question aimed at her. Even though she basically prompted the damn thing with her stupid last resort. She swallows against a thickening throat, inwardly debating which answer would be better. On one hand she could answer truthfully, which she knows will just take her deep into the pits of confusion, or she could make something up which will probably come out wrong (as most of the things she says come out wrong) and just watch Brittany's features contort with annoyance.

It's not really something she has to think about, now.

"I find myself..." she looks down to their intertwined fingers and reaches forward with her free hand to take Brittany's free one. She tangles their fingers together and feels a wash of relief and courage flood over her at the feeling. _Dear God. _It's like she has everything she wants in the palm of her hand. Literally.

She sucks in her lips, inhales deeply and then glances up to gaze into deep pools of sparkling blue. She doesn't think she'll ever tire of looking into these eyes.

"I find myself caring about what you think," she says in a low, sincere tone. "More so than anyone else."

Brittany smiles a little, but Santana's not sure if that's forced or not. She's not exactly happy about having to confess something as cheesy or true as that, because she's barely honest with anyone. But there's something that Brittany has that just makes her want to crack open, like a broken egg and spill all her contents. In the least dirtiest way possible.

_Fuck, _this is _so_ the opposite of mash and dash.

"Why?" Brittany whispers like she's unsure of asking herself.

This is one of those moments where should Santana blurts out the truth. Where, if they were in a movie, she'd list pages and pages of reasons why she's inexplicably drawn to Brittany and why she's so scared of being hurt by anyone that she acts like a bitch; so no-one can get close enough to do such damage. If this were a movie, she'd steps closer, cup Brittany's cheek, run her thumb over her high cheekbone and stare deeply into her eyes whilst telling her that she cares what Brittany thinks because they're destined to be together and this is just the beginning. Or some other cliché crap.

But she doesn't.

Instead, she settles for the truth.

"I don't know, Britt," she says, quietly. Almost a whisper. "I honestly don't know why."

Brittany bites her lips, nods and then grins and Santana almost has an almost overwhelming urge to kiss her right then. She doesn't though, because Brittany's already twirling around and taking a seat on the living room floor again with a knowing smirk.

Santana ducks her head, smiles down at the floor and then proceeds to take a seat next to Brittany.

She doesn't know why she cares what Brittany thinks. But maybe she's starting to find out.

* * *

She gathers her books and pens, shoves them into her Cheerio folder with no concern for organization, and then leans until her back is against the base of the sofa. Brittany turns, crossing her legs and shuffling until her kneecaps are brushing Santana's hip and then they're sitting side by side, staring at each other with barely half a metre between them.

"I hate Mr Martinez," Santana groans, throwing her head back to rest against the sofa cushions.

Brittany chuckles quietly, reaching over to brush back a piece of Santana's hair. "Who would you prefer, Mr Schue?"

"Hell, no," Santana grabs at Brittany's hand as it drops from her face. She tangles their fingers together and smiles down at the skin colour contrast before looking up through her lashes. "I guess it's okay now, though."

"Why so?"

Brittany's grinning, ear to ear with a cocked eyebrow and Santana finds herself mirroring the smile. "Shut up."

"Please, do tell," the blonde continues. "One doesn't know why."

Santana raises both eyebrows and ducks her head. "Why are you referring to yourself as one?" She boops Brittany's nose with her free hand. "Goofball."

"Did you just call me a goofball?"

Pursing her lips, Santana rolls her shoulders in a casual half-shrug. "Guess so," she suddenly feels the blush creep onto her cheeks. That was such a _couple _thing to do. Cute nicknames and booping noses. _God. _What is happening to her? "That was lame."

Despite the embarrassment she feels, Santana doesn't tear her eyes away from sparkling blue as Brittany giggles and scoots closer on her ass, bending her knees until they're almost shoulder to shoulder, but with the front of each pressing into each other.

"You're kind of cute," Brittany admits, tilting her head to the side. "When you're not at school, that is."

"I'm sorry," Santana drops her head, leaving it to hang and roll slightly.

Every time Brittany brings up school she feels guilt pluck at her heart and has the irrational urge to punch herself in the head to quell it. Or maybe that's rational. She hasn't quite decided how much of an ass she is. Although she does think if on a scale of one to ten, and ten was labelled 'biggest ass in the world' – she'd be a good seven.

The other girl shifts and turns slightly until her toes are pressed underneath Santana's thigh and shins are pressing against Santana's ribs. With one hand, Brittany begins to play with a dark ponytail, whilst the other toys with a caramel hand, tracing along the dips and lines in Santana's palm then running her fingers up the spaces between Santana's.

"I'm not going to say it's okay, because we both know it's not." Brittany explains and leans her temple against the sofa cushions. "But as long as you're not a _total _bitch when we're alone," the scrunches up her face playfully which makes Santana giggle. "I can deal with it."

A airy sigh that almost apologises in itself bubbles through Santana's lips and her head turns until she's facing Brittany. Except she didn't quite comprehend just how close she and the blonde were, so now they tips of their noses are brushing and their lips are barely an inch apart. Heat creeps around Santana's collar, but not the type that then spirals down to her groin. It's the one that aims a little higher, and to the left. She knows she should move, but the way Brittany's staring at her, and the small smile playing at Brittany's lips somehow renders her incapable of anything more than staring.

"Are you going to freak out this time?" Brittany whispers, her eyes suddenly seeming a hell of a lot darker then they were a minute ago.

Despite being in this weird daze that she can't seem to shake herself from, Santana processes Brittany's words and her eyes widen. Sure, she knew the girl was forward and all, but she didn't think the earlier freak out would be brought up again. It kind of makes her want to duck her head and hide her face. But that would break this... Whatever the hell it is and whereas before she knew just how bad this idea is... She's pretty sure fate has laid a hand because for the second time in like, a few hours, they're in this position _again._

Santana shuffles and tilts slightly, her nose sliding until it's almost pushing into a soft cheek and her mouth is ghosting over Brittany's. Her heart's racing and she feels herself shake with anticipation but she bites it back. Knowing if she shows the nerves it might create a giggle from Brittany and a comment like _do you usually get this nervous around all the girls? _which will _totally_ break the moment.

"I guess not," she says in reply to Brittany's question, eyes flicking up one final time to blue before down to perfect pink lips.

It's just one of those moments where _obviously _something would have to interrupt them. It's not Fernando. Or Maddie. Or even Brittany's phone. It's a loud fucking metal crushing like sound right out-fucking-side Brittany's fucking house. If it weren't for Brittany jerking back and spinning around to look towards the window (which has the curtains drawn) she would have closed the gap and pressed their lips together. But instead she settles for throwing her head back and bringing one hand up to press the back of it against the bridge of her nose as Brittany shoots up, practically sprints towards the window and peering through the curtains.

"Crap!" Brittany exclaims, and Santana sensing the urgency in her tone snaps her head up and looks towards the girl. "Someone's crashed their car into the fire hydrant!"

Santana closes her eyes, throws her head back once more and lets out a loud groan as soon as she hears Brittany burst through the front door.

Fucking inconsiderate assholes crashing their car.

* * *

If fate brought them to two almost kisses which have both ended without the feel of lips pressing against hers, then Santana really fucking hates fate.

About two minutes after Brittany sprinted outside to help with the elderly lady who shakily clambered out her car and pushed her broken glasses further up her nose as she looked around to see what the hell happened – despite her being the one to crash her fucking car – Santana followed and pretended she cared. It's not like she wouldn't in any other given situation, it's just that she was _so _fucking close to kissing Brittany, and she managed to throw caution to the wind and take that leap... But then that stupid bitch had to dodge that damn fox and crash straight into the fire hydrant.

Okay, maybe that's a bitch harsh. But Santana's pissed off. She thought she was going to get her mack on.

Brittany wanders in around 11pm when the paramedic has whisked Mrs. Jeffrey's from two blocks down, away, and the pick-up truck has been dragged away by Lima's finest mechanic. She rubs at her eyes, blinking before glancing up and Santana smiles at the jitters fluttering inside her stomach as their eyes connect.

"Is she alright?" Santana says in lieu of a greeting.

The other girls nods, makes her way towards the sofa and sits down next to Santana. "Yeah, they've just taken her for a routine check up."

"Good, good."

Silence kicks in and Santana lets out an airy sigh as Brittany lifts one hand, and walks two fingers across the couch towards a caramel hand. She doesn't touch it though, and Santana narrows her eyes, and looks down to where their hands are resting side by side with half a centimetre between them. Tentatively, she lifts her pinky and shifts to brush it over Brittany's where it curls and locks with a pale one.

Brittany chuckles, but then begins to yawn and she shakes her head and licks her lips when finished. Santana almost grins at how damn adorable she is before blue eyes are looking at her and she glances away, embarrassed. When she returns, Brittany's lips are pulled up into a half-smile and there's something glistening at her eyes that Santana can't quite figure out. Something that she thinks she may have seen about two hours ago when they nearly kis-

"I'm gonna go see how Fernando and Maddie are doing," Brittany announces, climbing to her feet and smiling down at Santana. "Wanna come?"

Santana nods, then stands and clears her throat. "Sure."

They walk in silence down the small hall, the back of their hands brushing but neither of them making a move to intertwine their fingers or inch further away to prevent it. It kind of makes Santana happy, knowing Brittany wants the contact, but there's something about the girl that causes all the confidence to drain out of her, and it makes her sad because she knows she won't make the first move to hold Brittany's hand, but neither will Brittany. Who so far has made the first moves so far.

Most of them anyway.

By the time she stops her eyes from flicking down to their brushing skin, and decided whether or not she has enough confidence to just clasp the girl's hand, they arrive at Maddie's room. Whereas Brittany moves into the room (because Maddie's bed is behind the door) Santana just stands there, watching the other girl. Apparently it's becoming a habit.

"San," Brittany whispers in the darkness. "San, come in quietly."

Santana steadies her breathing, wishing it's not too loud and walks into the dark bedroom. Brittany's standing behind the door, and Santana turns, clutching the door and pushing it slightly until she can stand next to the other girl properly.

There, lying in Maddie's bed, are Fernando and Maddie, cuddled up with their hands clutching t-shirts and light snores escaping both their lips, trading in the space between their faces as they're sharing the same pillow. She feels something jump inside her stomach, fluttering around and can't stop the Cheshire grin that spreads across her face. It twinges something inside of her and a low whine that sounds like the word _cute _bubbles through her lips.

Brittany giggles next to her. She turns to see the girl with half her tongue stuck out, bitten between her tongue and a scrunched up face and another noise, similar to the first comes out again. Heat rises in her cheeks, her eyes widen and she feels her features drop when she realizes just what she revealed through a simple sound. Brittany's just as cute as a cuddling Fernando and Maddie.

"Come on," Brittany nudges her shoulder. "Let's leave them be."

Santana frowns, but only lets herself be dragged away as the other girl grabs her hand. She's kind of powerless when Brittany's touching her, even if she wants to stay and just watch her brother for a while. This isn't something she's used too and she kind of wants to cherish the moment. Fernando being all cute and asleep with his first crush. That's something memorable.

"I've got to get him home..." she drags out the words, her neck twisted so she looks back towards the bedroom they just left.

Brittany stops, smiles at her and tangles their fingers together. "Ring your mom and tell her you and Fern are staying out, tonight."

"Britt, Fernando's seven. He doesn't stay out unless it's been organized for like two weeks."

"Well there's a first time for everything," Brittany beams and shrugs, before tugging them up the stairs.

Her eyes widen as Brittany leads them down the upstairs hallway and down towards what she can only assume to be Brittany's bedroom. The room is a baby blue, with different floral patterns beneath the white moulding around the ceiling. There's an oversized bed in the centre, propped up against the wall adjacent to the door, and a small dresser to the right hand side of that. It's a pretty normal room, except for the few toys over in the corner on the window seat, snuggled up as if someone arranged them that way. She almost laughs as she thinks about Brittany not wanting them to be lonely. She can totally imagine that.

"Why are we in your room?" she asks, suddenly hyper-aware of where she _actually _is.

Brittany's bedroom. A girl's bedroom. One that isn't Quinn's or Sugar's.

"Well Maddie gets a friend to sleepover, so it's only right I do too."

Her hand's released, and she stands in the room, by the large closet in the corner, twiddling her thumbs together in front of her as she watches Brittany casually waltz around the room. There's a weird buzzing feeling in the pit of her stomach that she can't seem to budge, and she shivers when Brittany breezes past her. Her golden lockers flicking into Santana's face.

How has she never released how fucking _good _Brittany smells?

"Are you planning on standing there all night or would you like to change?" Brittany asks through a grin, peeling back the comforter and folding it neatly in the centre of the bed.

Santana shrugs, bites her lip and looks around the room. Unsure of what to do. "I don't have anything to sleep in."

"Well, what do you usually sleep in?"

It's a pretty strange question, because usually people sleep naked or in pyjamas. Or so Santana thought. But the way Brittany's looking at her makes her wonder why there's a need for the question in the first place. It's only when blue eyes flicker down towards her crotch, and fair eyebrows raise that she gets it.

"_Oh," _she says, widening her eyes in realization. "Um, usually boxers and a t-shirt."

Brittany makes a high pitched noise like she's surprised. Santana frowns.

"What?"

Moving around towards the dresser on the right hand side of the bed, beside the window, Brittany lets out another noise that sounds like _"I don't know" _and then turns when she's grabbed whatever she intended too.

"Just had you pegged for a commando kinda girl," she replies, throwing Santana a pair of baggy shorts that kind of look like boxers, and a washed out black Jack Daniels t-shirt. "Or naked."

Santana cocks a brow, suggestively. "Oh, really?" She moves around the bed until she's on the same side as Brittany, right beside the girl. "Why's that?"

"I don't know," blue eyes flit down the length of her body. "You just come across like that."

A smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, and she narrows her eyes like she's trying to decipher Brittany's words. She's not entirely sure, but she thinks there's something lingering behind them. There's always the point of asking. But knowing what subject they're on, and knowing how dangerous it is already for them to be sharing flirtatious looks and touching like they've been doing it for years... Santana decides not too.

Instead, she clears her throat, backs away and asks where the bathroom is to distract herself. When Brittany tells her it's down the hall, she focuses on breathing in and out and heads down the hallway to where she was directed.

* * *

They've been lying on Brittany's bed for half an hour, with a good distance between them and the TV playing a repeat of _How I Met Your Mother. _There's been occasional giggles, and a few shuffles as they settled properly into the bed, but apart from that, Santana's basically been focused on not watching the other girl's face light up whenever Barney raised his hand for a high five (which turns out to be quite a lot) because Brittany grinning and chuckling is one of the cutest things she's ever seen before.

And her dad once took her to a dogs home with a brand new batch of Beagle puppies.

Santana sits up, props herself against the headboard and rubs her knuckles into her eyes. Trying to obliterate the aching fatigue behind them. When she opens them once more, Brittany's on her side, hand tucked underneath her head and the other lying on Santana's pillow, with a soft smile on her face and her eyes dark with sleep.

"Where's the blankets?" Santana asks, ignoring the urge to sigh at how beautiful the other girl looks.

Brittany pulls her forehead together and pushes up, leaning on the elbow underneath her head and drumming her fingertips along the pillow quietly. "Why do you need a blanket?"

Letting out a small chuckle, Santana swings her legs over the side of the bed. "I think the floor would be a little cold without it."

"The floor?"

"Well.." she turns to face the blonde. "Yeah. Unless you have under-the-carpet heating."

"Why would you sleep on the floor?" Brittany's tone heightens in pitch towards the end as her eyes narrow. "Do you usually sleep there?"

Santana shakes her head, twisting to lift one leg onto the bed, the other hanging off the side. "No, I have a bed. But you don't have two so the floor it is."

Grinning like she just realized something, Brittany reaches over, switches off the lamp, then tugs on Santana's bicep until they're lying facing each other. She reaches down, grabs the comforter and drags it over both their bodies. Having just been touched by the blonde, Santana's kind of powerless to resist and only realizes what is being implied when she's underneath the sheet and Brittany's scooting closer.

"There's a reason I have a double bed, San."

A million thoughts rush through her head. She's going to share a bed with Brittany. A girl who makes me feel so many fucking things that sometimes she even forgets to breathe. How is she supposed to do this without just reaching over and giving into the overwhelming urges that pulls at her body? She shivers involuntarily at the thought and sucks in her lips to try to keep down her ragged breaths. She knows just how loud they are, and if it wasn't for her natural bodily reactions to Brittany being so close to her, she could have totally feigned all interest. Stupid fucking body.

"Do you not feel weird?" Santana asks, ignoring how Brittany shuffles closer and tangles their legs together. "Like," she gulps, loudly. Her hands shaking with the need to touch the other girl. "Sharing a bed with a stranger?"

Brittany lets out a giggle that's like honey and seriously, right now, she's so fucking glad all the lights are off so Brittany can't see the way her eyes roll into the back of her head with delight.

"That would be weird. But you're not a stranger."

"We've known each other for like, a few weeks," Santana tries. Hoping the girl will move away from her before she gives into want of wrapping her arms around Brittany and pulling her close. "And I haven't exactly been the most charming of people."

Brittany shrugs. But it just makes her shuffle closer until Santana lifts her chin to let the other girl tuck her head underneath it. She's pretty sure her breathing just stopped, and if she doesn't slow down her heart beat Brittany will ask what's wrong and something along the lines of _you're having this effect on me _or _my heart's skipping beats because of you _will probably spill out her mouth. Not exactly the smoothest of confessions.

"You're making up for it," she hears the words sink into the crook of her neck and shudders. Brittany pulls back and looks up until their noses brush and it tears the breath straight out of Santana. Her eyes dart between each blue orb, which are way too bright considering this darkness, and waits for something to happen. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says quickly. "Just cold."

In hindsight, it probably wasn't the wisest of replies as Brittany just grins, grabs Santana's arm and hooks it over her own waist until it's hard to define where one body ends and one begins. Santana melts into the embrace, her eyes fluttering shut when Brittany grabs a handful of her t-shirt and pulls so there's no way that, even if she wanted too, she could get out of it.

She doesn't exactly know what goes through her mind, but she think it's something like the realization of defeat and when she should just cut her loses and go with the flow. Because she lets out a long breath she didn't know she was holding, moves until their chests are flush against each other and tightens her grip around Brittany's waist.

A sigh of contentment is muffled into her collarbone, and she grins, not caring if Brittany feels it and leans down to press a kiss to the top of the girl's head. "Night, Britt."

"Night, San," Brittany replies. Lips skimming across a throbbing pulse point.

With Brittany breathing soundly into the hollow of Santana's throat, and Santana with the softest of smiles against her lips, they fall asleep soundly. She won't remember tomorrow morning, but the last thought that runs through her conscious mind is the realization that she's falling hard and fast.

She's _so _screwed.


	10. Part Ten

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Ten]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **7.5k

* * *

When she wakes up, Brittany's lying with her back to her and a smile creeps across Santana's lips. Although what happens next, isn't so great. As she shifts herself, she realizes her arm is slung over the other girl's midsection, pressing against Brittany's abs and there's a strange warmth covering the back. Not only are they _spooning, _but they're also holding hands intimately and snuggling like freakin' couples do.

Panic sets in as she realizes exactly what predicament she's in. This is the first morning aftershe's ever experienced. And what makes it ten times worse is that they didn't even have sex. So it's not really a morning after so much as an intimate sleepover.

_Oh God._

Carefully, she slips her hand from underneath Brittany's and squirms slightly to untangle her legs from the sheets. Pushing her palms into the mattress beside her thighs, she climbs out of bed and hastily makes her way towards the window seat where her Cheerios uniform is lying. She smacks herself in the forehead when she realizes she didn't think about hanging it up. Now it's crinkled and Coach is _totally _going to snap her neck in two if she turns up with that on.

She grabs the uniform anyway, then her phone (checking the time and seeing it's only 5am) and opens the door when she gets there. Sparing a single glance towards Brittany's sleeping form, she slips out, pressing one palm to the plane of the door to steady closing it. Last thing she wants is for Brittany to wake up whilst she sneaking out. She already feels guilty enough. And right now, she fucking hates herself for doing it.

Even reasoning that it's only to head home to grab her uniform doesn't work.

She knows it's not.

* * *

Her getaway isn't so quiet when she gets downstairs. She remembers just as she's opening the front door that her little brother is still fast asleep, and so dropping her stuff by the entrance, she tip-toes into Maddie's room and wakes Fernando. It's a lot easier than she thought, but then again, her brother's so tired that he doesn't even really wake up.

"Where we going, Tana?" Fernando mumbles against her neck.

Santana cradles the base of his skull and closes Maddie's door with her foot gently. "We're going home and you need to get ready for school, Squirt."

"Okay..." he drags out the words and only seconds later light snores come from her neck. She tries to ignore the memories of Brittany doing that last night, as Fernando is just a refresher and heads back through the kitchen.

She never expected Brittany's mom to be standing there.

"Uh," Santana freezes on the spot. Half-turned to head the other way without letting Brittany's mom know she's there and half-facing to greet the woman. But Brittany's mom notices her first and smiles softly. Now she knows where Brittany gets her smile from.

"Good morning," the blonde woman says, moving flawlessly across the floor towards the coffee cup. "You must be Santana," she pours a cup, eyes focused on the task before flickering up to Santana. "And that must be Fernando," she nods towards the sleeping boy and then twists, leaning against the counter. "I've heard a lot about you."

"You have?" Santana shuffles her brother further up her hip, inwardly wishing she didn't sound as shocked or intrigued as she is. She hates that.

The blonde woman smiles, revealing a perfect set of pearly white teeth. "Yes. Madison and Brittany talk about the 'Lopez duo' all the time."

"Lopez duo?"

"Yes," the blonde woman confirms before straightening up. "I'm Susan," she smiles brightly. "By the way."

Slightly distracted by the sheer brightness of the woman's smile, Santana manages a smile back and stretches out her hand. She's not even sure if that's the proper thing to do. She's never been in this situation before. Quinn and Sugar's parents are barely ever there, and when they are, she doesn't have to speak to them because they make a point of avoiding her. They never speak to her like Mrs. Pierce is. A weird warmth spreads throughout her chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Santana gets out. "I'm Santana. Santana Lopez."

Susan smiles down at her hand, but makes no move to shake it. "I know who you are, darlin'."

For the first time, Santana notices the slight twang to the woman's voice and her face falters, but she makes sure it's not visibly so. She's never heard such a thing in Brittany's voice, and it's taken her off guard.

"Brittany talks about you," Susan continues, smiling brightly. Although now Santana notices something glimmering in the back of the older woman's eyes and suddenly feels uneasy. It's almost knowing and she swears there's a smirk tugging at Susan's lips. "She's told me about this infamous Santana at McKinley."

Santana gulps and teeters nervously. "She has?"

"Yes," Susan sets down her cup and smiles again. It's getting sweeter and sweeter and Santana really _doesn't _like it. "And as you may have noticed I'm not here very often."

"Mrs Pierce," Santana starts, her voice breaking as her hand trembles from where it's supporting Fernando. "I apologise for coming into your house. Brittany said it was okay so I didn't think to-"

The older woman laughs and Santana snaps her jaw shut, curious to the sudden outburst. "My dear, Santana. I have no problem you being here," her eyes flicker down to Fernando. "Nor your brother."

Santana narrows her eyes as confusion races through her. It quickens her heart beat and she wonders what the older woman's getting at. Clearing her throat, she hoists her brother further up her hip and takes a step closer to the other woman – hoping it'll show that she isn't scared and has a little confidence. From previous experience, she's learnt confidence bodes well with adults. With most people, actually.

"Sorry, Mrs Pierce. I don't really understand what you're trying to get at here..."

Brittany's mom grins again and moves until she's standing in front of her. She lifts a hand, tenderly places it on Santana's shoulder and squeezes gently. "I'm not getting at anything, dear. I just want to make sure everything's okay and that my little Brittany is alright."

"She is," Santana nods, wary of where a hand is still on her shoulder. "As far as I know."

"Is that why you're sneaking out at 5 o'clock in the morning?" A cocked brow and pursed lips is aimed straight at her. She swallows thickly.

Whereas the woman has been smiling the entire time, now her features have hardened and Santana stiffens at the similarities between this woman and Brittany when they didn't get on so well. Fear courses through her, but she doesn't show it. Instead she lifts her chin and manages to force a smile that doesn't look to fake.

"No, Mrs Pierce. I have to get Fernando to school and grab a new Cheerios uniform as mine's crinkled," she explains. "Coach Sue won't take kindly if I turn up in one like that."

The blonde nods and the corners of her lips tug up into a small smile. "Don't get me wrong, Santana," she locks eyes with brown and now Santana knows there's no hostility behind the fading blue orbs. It's just a mother looking out for her daughter. She understands that. "I'm not giving you a hard time."

"Okay..."

"I just love Brittany a lot," Brittany's mom explains, her voice a lot softer than before. "And as you may know, I'm not here a lot of the time, and neither is her father."

Santana sucks in her lips and nods. She wants to ask what the woman does, but she's not sure if it would overstep the line. Instead, she moves into the kitchen when Susan gestures for her to take a seat and perches on one of the stool. Unable to sit properly as Fernando's preventing her.

"I don't know if Brittany's told you, but her father was recently drafted back into the Air Force."

Perfectly shaped eyebrows raise. "Her father's a pilot?"

"Yes," the older woman nods. "We moved down here to be closer to Henry, because none of us liked being so far away from him. Then I was offered a promotion down here, too."

Santana arches a brow, confused.

"I work down at the children's hospital," Mrs Pierce continues. "And sometimes that includes late nights, like last night."

The entire time, Santana offers small nods whilst ignoring the wetness she can feel leaking onto her neck. Fernando's dribbling. But she's too focused on listening to Brittany's mom to care. In all honestly... the woman kind of scares her. She doesn't even know why. Something about the Pierce's just remain a mystery to her.

"So most of the time, Brittany looks after Madison," the blonde moves around the island and returns to her coffee mug, picking it up and sipping tentatively. "And I just don't want anything to tear their relationship, or anyone, apart."

Narrowing her eyes, Santana thinks through the words and wonders whether or not she should say what she's thinking. She wants too. But this woman in front of her is kind of frightening in a strange way and it's making the words lodge inside her throat.

She pushes through it though. Even if her stomach's flipping with intense anxiety that'll probably cause her to sweat in a few minutes.

"With all due respect, Mrs Pierce," Santana says, her tone a little stronger than usual. "It's not Brittany's job to look after Madison," her voice wavers a little when blue eyes narrow towards her.

"She's a teenager... Not a mother. And I hope you don't judge a book by it's cover, because I'm not here to damage any relationship or anyone. I'm Brittany's..." her voice breaks and she swallows against a thickening throat.

"I'm Brittany's friend and I don't know what you've heard about me," she lets out a small, bitter chuckle. Reputation's really to precede people. "I won't lie, most of it is probably true. But Brittany's different," she rolls her shoulders in a small shrug. "And I don't want to hurt her. I have no intention too, either."

It scares her how easily the words flow out her mouth. What scares her more is how she wishes the words wouldn't turn out to be a lie. She sucks in a shaky breath and licks her lips.

"Brittany's special, and I know you may not think I'm capable of change, but I think I deserve a chance. Some people deserve a second chance, but everyone deserves a first."

Something flashes behind blue eyes and a smile tugs at the blonde woman's lips. But Santana ignores it and continues.

"I haven't been the best person, I know I haven't. But," she feels her lips quiver and heat prick at her eyelids. _Jesus, _when did she become such a fucking sap? "I want to change. There's something about Brittany that makes me _want _to change. She's..." the word is on the tip of her tongue and it feels so foreign that she's not sure if she can even say it to describe a person. "She's amazing. So I hope you can give me a chance."

The blonde woman raises both eyebrows, studies Santana for long moments whilst sipping on her coffee. Santana holds the stare, unwilling to break it as she knows right now she could either be kicked out on her ass and yelled at or respected by her outburst. If there's anything she needs to do, is to stand by her words and keep a steady face. Confidence is key.

"I think..." Brittany's mom places her mug down and walks towards Santana. Santana gulps loudly and feels her heart pick up and throat thicken with every step the other woman takes.

"I think we're going to get on swimmingly, Santana." She offers out her hand and Santana smiles down at it. A wash of relief flooding through her as she sees the first genuine smile that isn't too sweet to be real. The tables have turned, it seems.

Santana shuffles Fernando's weight onto one arm, takes the offered hand and shakes it. "It was nice to meet you, Mrs Pierce."

"Susan," the woman grins. "Call me, Susan."

"It was nice to meet you, Susan," Santana repeats, loosening the shake and retracting her hand to cradle her brother again.

"You too, Santana," Susan narrows her eyes. "I think I'm going to like you."

Santana feels a wash of confidence flow through her body and lifts her chin triumphantly. With one final smile, she walks back through the house and grabs her bag. Exiting swiftly.

It's not until she climbs into the drivers side after placing Fernando in the back seat that she wishes what she said wasn't entirely bullshit.

* * *

Being a Wednesday, Santana doesn't have any lessons with Brittany. That also means it goes ridiculously slowly, and every hour drags on with the sound of a clock ticking echoing in her mind over and over. On the other hand though, it means that she gets to dodge the whole '_why did you leave?' _bullet a little longer.

But the guilt feels like it's eating her up inside. It's stupid, and possibly irrational, because it wasn't really a morning after. But she still left without waking Brittany up. At least Susan was there to catch her though. That kind of minimises it. '_Kind' of_ being the key word.

On the way home, she decides to take the longer route home to clear her head. Last night was so overwhelming and having to keep up the bitch façade at school has taken any time for her to think about it, away. So now she's cruising through Lima, by passing streets she's never really known were there and lets Adele's soft voice flow through the car as her mind wanders.

She doesn't really know what the hell is going on with her and Brittany. Not only because her mind is seriously fucked up, but because it feels so much like _nothing _else she's had before. If that makes any sense. She never works for someone's affection. That's like the complete opposite of what she usually does. But recently, she's been working her ass off just to get Brittany to fucking _smile_ at her. And now that she's through the threshold and fucking _cuddling _Brittany when she goes to sleep, she's confused as to what the hell's going on.

This entire bet was to bed Brittany. To get in, get out and get off. Nothing more.

But now it's like the entire world's turning the other way because she finds herself more interested in finding out about Brittany, then she is about getting in between those long, muscular legs. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't turned on by the girl. Because _shit,_ she'd have to be fucking blind, and in the dark, and behind a brick wall, and like _dead _not to notice just how damn hot Brittany is.

Although, the thing is... It's just that she's so very aware of how _beautiful _the girl is too, that all the sexual attraction just kind of seeps out her mind because she's too damn busy letting out a heavenly sigh and smiling stupidly because of this _goddess _that's smiling at her. She feels like she's the luckiest person in the world when Brittany's grinning at her.

That seriously freaks her out.

What started out as a bet - a stupid fucking bet worth $200 just to get into Brittany's pants - has turned into some serious interest. Like, _romantic _interest. She actually thinks that she might be fucking falling for this girl. Hard and fast. And completely out of her control. She thinks that maybe it wouldn't be so bad, or that maybe she wouldn't be feeling so fucking guilty if there was any possibility to keep her feelings from intensifying. But now there's all that time they have to spend together to complete the stupid Spanish assignment (which she thinks Mr Martinez planned because he's an evil bastard) and she realizes how much she _can't separate_ herself from the bet and her feelings.

She can always get out of this bet. But it still won't make a difference. In all honesty, she doesn't really give a shit about Quinn and her shit-eating smug grin, or handing over $300. It's just that now the bet has been made, there's no way to take it back. She could lie and say that without the bet, she would have talked to Brittany. But even her mind shouts _bullshit _when she tries that one. There's no way in hell she would have even considered talking to Brittany if it wasn't for this bet.

Cheerios and choir geeks just don't mix. Unless, obviously, there's some kind of bet involved.

So even if she told Quinn that she wasn't going to go through with this, and saw where things would go with Brittany... There'd still be that hanging guilt clawing at the back of her mind that would potentially ruin anything between her and Brittany. _If _anything was to become of them.

Plus, there's also that constant worry in the bottom of her gut that hits her like a punch whenever she thinks about losing her reputation. She _is _her reputation. Maybe not at home, but at school that's all she has. And even though it's ridiculous for her to think it, dating a choir geek would totally ruin everything she's managed to built up over the past years. The respect and reputation she has takes _years_ to build, but only seconds to break. And she's not quite prepared to do that. Not for a girl that she's just _crushing _on.

_Fuck. _She seriously has no idea what to do.

When her thoughts get too much, she pulls up onto the curb and switches on her hazard lights. Not exactly the correct use for them, but she thinks it's okay considering her brain is a fucking hazard right now. And anyone should probably stay clear because she's about two seconds away from throwing her fist through the wind shield.

Her mind flicks back to their encounter on the side of the road last week. The first time when she actually showed Brittany the side of her that _wasn't _the 'in-school' version. She pinches her lips up at the side and frowns. That was seriously a mistake. If she hadn't started to reveal that side of herself, she wouldn't be in this situation right now. Sometimes sticking to being a bitch is easier. And back then would have been a perfect time.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she bangs her forehead against the steering wheel to punctuate each word.

Gritting her teeth and clenching her jaw, she pulls back until the back of her head hits the headrest. She breathes out deeply and curls her fingers tighter around the steering wheel. Trying to think about what the hell she's supposed to do, when something catches her eyes. She narrows them and then like an idea sparks inside her mind, like a light bulb switching on. Grinning to herself, she hops out the car, slams the door shut and rounds towards the boot of her car. She spots what she's looking for and then snaps her head around to look at the object that caught her eye a moment ago.

She doesn't know what she's going to do in the long run, but she knows what she's going to do now.

* * *

Santana practically runs to Brittany's front door when she pulls up in the driveway. She doesn't know why, but for some strange reason she gets this rush of excitement bursting through her when she knows she's going to see Brittany. It's like her lungs have expanded double their size and suddenly there's not enough oxygen to quell her enthusiasm.

"San?" Brittany says when she opens the door. "What are you-"

"Here," Santana, interrupts, holding out her left arm and squeezes her eyes shut.

"What is it?" She hears when Brittany takes the bag clasped in her hand. The breath she's inhaling catches in her throat when she hears the rustling and a sharp gasp. Her features crinkle and scrunch, unsure of the other girl's reaction and when it gets too much for her too wait, she cracks open an eyelid and sees Brittany with the item in her hand, eyes focused on it. Because of the position, she can't gage her reaction. Chewing on her bottom lip, she waits for about three seconds before the words just spill out.

"I know I wasn't exactly nice to you on that day, when your car broke down, and I felt really bad that you had to use your clothes to mop up the grease. And it was American Apparel and actually a _really _nice cardigan, and I know how much it must have cost because I used to it wipe up the excess water," the words basically form one long ass sentence and she feels her breathing pick up when Brittany doesn't make a move to respond. She quickly traces back on her words and realizes it could have sound quite offensive. So she does the only thing she can think of. Continue rambling.

"It's not like I don't think you can afford it so it's not mean to be offensive, but I was outside the shop earlier. They've opened one in Lima high street and I thought of you and..." she trails off and begins to panic. _Shit. _She shouldnt' have bought the damn thi-

"You bought me a new cardigan?" Brittany whispers.

Santana shifts her weight onto the opposite leg. "Well, yeah, I mean," she gestures out her left hand, "yours was ruined by the engine oi-"

She doesn't even manage to finish her sentence before arms wrap around her neck and Brittany's thrown herself at her. She stumbles back a few steps, teetering on the edge of the stoop before her mind kicks in and she's hugging back. Arms sliding around Brittany's waist, she buries her face into the girl's neck and inhales deeply, smelling coconut and vanilla that lingers on Brittany's skin.

"Thank you," is muffled into her shoulder.

Santana breathes out a sigh of relief and feels a grin the size of Africa stretch across her face. She pulls back and then they're staring into each other's eyes, noses barely half an inch apart and arms still tightly wound around each other's body. Santana's around Brittany's waist, Brittany's around Santana's neck.

"Do you like it?" She breathes out.

Brittany nods and smiles. "I love it," she replies, not moving from their close proximity. "Thank you."

"No problem."

Clearing her throat, Santana steps back, inwardly punching herself for not just leaning in and kissing Brittany because it would've been _that _fucking easy. Blue eyes flicker with disappointment quickly, but Brittany shakes her head and steps back into the house, moving to the side to gesture for Santana to enter.

They both walk into the living room, and Santana stops behind the couch to look around.

"Where's your mom?"

Brittany sighs. "At work. One of the children demanded she be there before they went in for an operation."

"And Madison?"

"With her. Apparently some of the kids have heard all about little Maddie and wanted to meet her," Brittany replies, fiddling with the fabric on her sweatpants.

"Oh," Santana wrenches her lips down at the side and moves around the sofa to sit down next to the blonde. "Right, cool."

"Yeah," Brittany shakes her head and turns. "So do you wanna finish the assignment or something?"

Shrugging slowly, Santana looks around the room and lands on the DVD rack in the corner of the room. She bites her lip, scanning quickly over the spines but it's no use. She needs to stand to see the title's properly.

"I was thinking we could just chill, and like, watch a movie or something," she suggests like her heart isn't racing. "If you want, I mean, we've done like a lot of the assignment already so-"

"Santana," Brittany cuts in, ducking her chin to her chest and looking through long lashes. "You're rambling."

"Am I?"

The blonde nods. "Yeah. So calm down," a hand covers her own, "and pick a film. I'll go get some popcorn."

"Okay."

The sofa rises underneath her as Brittany pats her hand and stands. She lets out a long breath, and licks her drying lips. She knows she should probably keep her emotions under control considering half-way through the movie, Brittany will probably cuddle into her side (because _duh, _that's the only reason two teenagers watch DVD's) and she's not entirely sure she's capable of doing that in this state. The fleeting wonder of where the Pierce's store their alcohol does flicker through her mind, but sober she can barely handle being in Brittany's personal space. _Drunk _she'd just be like, uncontrollable.

So keeping her hormones in check seems like a good idea.

"I'm feeling something spooky," Brittany skips into the living room and plops down next to Santana. Throwing the bowl of warm popcorn into her lap and leaning into her side. "Like _Dawn Of The Dead._"

Santana gulps, feeling the warmth from Brittany's body pressed against her own spread all over her body. The blonde moves, and then lets out a low _"hmph" _when she can't seem to get comfortable. Without even talking, Brittany sits up, places the popcorn bowl on the floor, grabs Santana's legs (from where they're hanging over the side of the couch) and lays them across the width of the cushions. Santana's mouth drops open, eyes focused on the other girl as her body's manipulated and twisted until the next thing she feels is Brittany's back pressing against her chest as the girl sits between her legs.

Suddenly she thinks watching a movie wasn't such a good idea.

"Uh," she swallows against a thickening throat and feels her hands shake with the confusion as to where to put them. "Don't you need to um, get up to put the movie in?"

Brittany's body shakes against hers as she laughs whilst pale fingers fumble with the controls. "I don't have it," she explains, pressing one final button before dropping the remote beside her thigh. "We can just rent it."

"Are you sure? Won't your mom be angry?"

Twisting her head, Brittany stares up at her so close Santana can count just how many eyelashes the girl has. "No, she doesn't care," the blonde replies, scrunching her nose up once before turning. Santana's pretty sure her heart just stopped. "Now shut up, movie's starting."

Staring down at the blonde head of hair beneath her, she's not entirely sure how coming over to give Brittany a cardigan turned into them snuggling down to watch a movie. She wants to care, and delve over the many possibilities as to why this is happening, but honestly, she doesn't really _want _to know. All she wants to know right now is how damn good this feels to have Brittany in her arms whilst they watch a film.

There goes any resolve she had.

* * *

Brittany flinches when a zombie slams up against the glass door in the film. Santana instantly drops her hands from where they were awkwardly propped up on the back of the couch and grip at the girl's waist. It's only when her fingers are kneading softly that she realizes exactly what she's doing.

She moves to snap her hands back, but Brittany's fingers curl around her wrist and tug. "Don't move. Comfy."

Santana's eyebrows raise as fingers slide through her own, pulling tight until her arms are wrapped around the other girl's body and palms are pressed into tight abs. (She doesn't miss the way the muscles twitch underneath her touch.)

"Okay," she replies, settling back into sofa.

* * *

On screen, there's a guy devouring someone's insides and it's pretty damn graphic considering the film is like a light R. Sure, hard R's are basically porno's, but guts and gore must stand for something, right?

"This is gross," Brittany scrunches her nose up in disgust and turns until her cheek is pressed against Santana's chest bone.

Santana chuckles and tries to steady her racing heart. Brittany's ear is like _right there, _over the left side of her chest and there's only so many times she can blame the movie for her quickening pulse. It's not even scary. Just kind of gory and gross, like Brittany said.

"Zombies _are _gross, Britt," Santana says, softly. "They eat human flesh."

"Yeah, but..." the blonde lifts her head and reaches out one hand to brush a lock of Santana's hair back. "They're people."

Santana leans into the touch. "They _were _people. People don't eat humans."

"Cannibal's do."

Narrowing her eyes, Santana can't stop the grin that tugs at her lips and begins to laugh. The girl has a point. "Touché, Pierce," she whispers, sliding her hands around to Brittany's lower back and freezing when her fingertips skim underneath the hem of the girl's top and onto hot skin.

Brittany just laughs it off, apparently unaware to the touch and then they return to watching the movie.

* * *

"How are you watching this?" The words come muffled out as lips brush against the hollow of Santana's throat.

About two seconds previous to Brittany saying this, the entire (alive) crew on screen jumped in their awesome, pimped out vans with chainsaws, guns, propane tanks and other zombie-killing weapons packed inside and thought it was a good idea to drive into a field full of zombies. Apparently, that scared the blonde because she jerked, knocking the remote and empty popcorn bowl onto the floor and buried her face into Santana's neck, fingers curling around the nap e of it and pulling so there was no space between them.

"It's not real, Britt," Santana explains, running her fingers through golden hair. Restraining the urge to sigh at the silk soft texture. "It's just a film."

"It's scary."

"You wanted to watch it."

"I didn't think it would be that gross," Brittany shifts herself until she can lift both hands, rest them on Santana's chest bone and then rest her chin upon that.

Santana desperately tries not to think about how tightly their bodies are pressed together, or how their breasts are brushing and how if she doesn't stop thinking about this, Brittany's going to be arching her back out because something's digging into her stomach.

"Well now you know," she says, wagging her eyebrow. "And next time we'll watch a comedy or something."

"Sure," Brittany chuckles out the word and then rests her head down.

The film continues to play in the background, but Santana's way too focused on the sound of Brittany's breathing and how tingly her body feels from where the other girl's pressed against her. She feels a sigh bubble out up and roll onto her tongue, but she bites it back purposely and rests her head back against the arm rest. Barely a few seconds pass before the sound of her phone going off interrupts her peace and she blindly reaches down, scrambling around the floor for her iPhone. It's somewhere down there.

"Britt, can you see my phone?"

Brittany leans up a little, peers over the side and grabs it. "It's just a text," she tells her. "From Quinn."

"What does it say?" Santana asks, her eyes locked onto Brittany's profile as her fingers comb through blonde hair. She feels her nails graze against the other girl's scalp and tries to ignore the way Brittany's body entire relaxes into the touch.

"Puck's having a party," Brittany turns and looks at her. "On Friday."

"Oh." Santana couldn't more less interested if she tried. Not with Brittany lying on her and staring into her eyes. She doesn't think she'll ever stop wanting to just stare into the deep blue pools, come to think of it. No better way to spend her free time if she's honest.

Brittany pulls her forehead together. "Are you going to go?"

"Are you?"

The blonde tilts her head to the side, then shakes it.

So Santana responds with, "Neither am I, then."

"Why?"

Santana shrugs as much as she can in this position and trails her finger down the other girl's temple, cheekbone, around her lips and then down her jawline. "I'd prefer to stay in with you," she replies, honestly; her eyes flicking down to pink lips, then back to bright blue eyes. "If you're not doing anything, that is."

"I'm not," Brittany smiles and then ducks her chin to her chest. Forehead pressing against Santana's breastbone. "But if you wanna go, then I could always," she lifts her head. "Come with you?"

Dark eyebrows rise. "You'd come with me to a part full of people you _don't _like?"

"I don't _not _like them," Brittany shifts and brings one hand up to stroke the back of it over Santana's cheekbone.

She grins. "Kind of how you didn't _not _like me?"

"Santana," Brittany deadpans, narrowing her eyes quickly into an evil glare and moving to get up.

She grabs Brittany's hands before she can though and tugs until their bodies are flush against each other, and faces dangerously close. She gulps heavily, feeling Brittany's breath blanket her cheekbones and lips and licks them just to see if she can quell her craving for that taste. Brittany's eyes darken visibly as Santana looks between them, searching for fear or the want to pull away. She can either faceplant or succeed right now. It all depends on what Brittany says next.

"You're a lot nicer when you're alone, you know." Brittany informs her, not moving from her position.

Santana bends her leg at the knee, the other dropping to dangle off the side of the sofa. It causes Brittany to drop further into her, and press tighter against her body. Warmth spreads throughout her entire being, but Brittany just smiles like this is the most normal thing in the world. Like they're used to being this close to each other. The buckle of her belt digs into the space below her navel, and she's kind of glad for that right now, because the way Brittany's hips are distractingly pressing into her own, it could possibly give her a hard on. On second thoughts, she _is _getting a hard on.

_Oh God._

"You've said," Santana croaks. She coughs, clearing it and then lifts her hands to smooth them down Brittany's shoulders.

"Sweeter," Brittany continues. "Kinder, and for some reason," she quirks a brow. "Hotter."

Feigning offence, Santana's jaw drops open and a sharp gasp escapes her lips. "You _don't _think my Cheerios uniform is hot?"

"I do," the blonde replies, smiling and tilting her head to the side to focusing on the finger she's running along Santana's collar. She seriously fucking hopes Brittany can't feel the heat building around there. She certainly fucking can. "I just think it's like a switch."

"A switch?"

Brittany looks up and shifts, the tips of their noses brushing. "You switch into the _other _Santana."

"Oh," her voice drops and she feels guild flood through her body, pricking her cheeks and drying her throat. Her eyes trace the lines of the other girl's face and she can just imagine Brittany's disappointment whenever she walks down the hallway, going to smile at Santana and just gets a small smile in return. Like they don't even know each other. "Yeah... I guess so."

"Why-" Brittany pauses, one hand tangling into Santana's hair by her temple, threading through the locks and focusing on the movement as her face scrunches up in thought. "Why do you do it?" She finally asks, eyes flickering back to brown. Santana looks at the girl curiously. "Have two personalities, I mean."

The realization of how deep and emotional this conversation sinks in, and Santana's immediate reaction is to shove Brittany off her and bolt out the door without turning back. She doesn't do this whole 'opening up' thing. Not to people who don't share the same last name as her, anyway. Even then, she barely opens up. Telling her parents and brother about her feelings and shit just isn't cool. That's what friends are there for. But even then, Quinn and Sugar don't quite understand her, and she's not willing to open up to people she doesn't trust. That just leads to people getting hurt and relationships getting messy. Without feelings and trust, things are so much simpler. Even if it is a lonelier life.

But then there's Brittany. Staring at her with trusting, honest blue eyes and an understanding that she doesn't quite understand. They've barely known each other a week, and right now, she feels like she could tell Brittany just about anything and wouldn't be judged. That type of trust doesn't just happy. It takes years to build. _Years. _Not months, and certainly not weeks.

Brittany, though... There's just something about Brittany that makes all the hesitancy and fear she has, shrink away.

"Honestly?" Santana whispers, and Brittany bites her lips and nods. "I don't really know," she sucks in her lips. "It's just a protection thing, I guess. If I'm a bitch, people wanna stay away from me, and I won't end up getting hurt because I let someone in."

Sympathy flashes behind blue eyes, and Santana kind of really fucking hates that. This is one of the reasons she doesn't open up. She doesn't like people feeling sorry for her. Her life so far has been fine. No-one's hurt her, no-one's betrayed her, and she likes it like that. It may be lonely, but it's safe.

"Don't do that, Britt," she breathes out. "I don't like people feeling sorry for me."

Brittany presses her lips together and frowns. "I wasn't," she shakes her head. "I just was thinking of the person who did this to you," she traces her finger up the muscles in Santana's neck. "And how much I'd kind of like to punch them."

Santana chuckles, quietly, dropping her head to the side until her temple's pressing against the back of the couch. There's a little more space between them now and she feels her pulse slow down a little. Space is good, right now. Space is what she needs if they're going to have this kind of conversation.

"No-one did this to me, Britt," she explains. Her lips quivering into a small, sad, smile.

Blue eyes flicker around her face, like she's trying to find the tell tale lines of a lie. "No-one's hurt you, before?"

"No," Santana says, honestly, breathing in deeply and feeling Brittany's chest sink with the movement. They're basically breathing in each other's exhaled air. Something flutters in her stomach. She kind of likes the intimacy of it.

"I mean..." she swallows against a thickening throat. "I wish I had a dramatic story to tell of my heart being broken, or of letting someone in and having it thrown back in my face, or whatever. But honestly... It's just me protecting myself before anything can happen." Brittany's features fall and she feels her eyes burn with the need to cry. "It's me acting in hindsight, and it's why I treat people the way I do. It's why I sleep around, and supposedly have no regard for people's feelings. It's not an excuse, and I know it's awful," she shrugs and feels fingers glide up her arm, around her shoulder and up to her neck comfortingly. "But, sex has never been dating to me and it's the only way I can live my life whilst being safe," she takes in a deep breath and lets it out. "Not letting people in has always worked for me."

"That must be lonely," Brittany says in a small voice as her fingers curl around the nape of Santana's neck.

Santana sucks in her quivering lower lip and nods, hoping it'll go away. Her eyes move, locked on the way Brittany's shifting, and rising until the girl's kneeling between her legs and staring down at her with intense, blue eyes. Fingers wind through her hair, and more curl around her neck, coaxing her to move until she's using her stomach muscles to sit support her body as she sits up straight, hands finding their way to Brittany's hips and gripping.

"But," Brittany says out, breathing heavily as her head tilts down, face hovering above Santana's. "I'm thinking maybe you should make a change."

Santana stills, arching a brow despite both of them leaning in and heading down _that _road. Her heart pounds. So loud she can hear her pulse throbbing inside her ears, banging like a drum. The fingers in her hair flex, and she's suddenly hyper-aware of how close Brittany is. She takes a few split seconds to memorize Brittany's face this close up. Unsure of if she's going to get this opportunity again.

When Brittany lowers her face further, tilting their foreheads together, she's broken from her thoughts and she watches the grin etch it's way across the other girl's face since she knows she's been caught staring. She doesn't even care.

"What change is that?" she whispers, licking her lips.

Brittany's chest expands as she inhales deeply through her nose, and Santana's momentarily paralysed by the way their bodies melt together. She shifts, lifting her leg off the floor and straightening her other to prop herself up further until her nose nuzzles against Brittany's. It causes a sharp gasp to echo through her body and her eyes involuntarily shut as Brittany's responds.

"I think," she tugs gently on dark hair until Santana cracks her eyes open to stare into half-hooded blue ones. "I think it's time you let someone in."

Santana barely manages to smile before irresistibly soft lips are brushing slowly over her own, lingering and softly sweeping once more. Almost as if she's being teased. The breath catches in her throat and despite the sheer tenderness of the kiss, it's the best kiss she's ever had. She sees the spark of fireworks flashing inside her eyelids. She feels the air warm around her and heat trickle over her skin. She tastes Brittany's sweetness on her tongue as their mouths part and her bottom lip is massaged expertly between two indescribably soft ones as she wonders if this is actually happening. Because it's so damn beautiful and memorizing that it could be in her wildest of dreams.

There could actually be fireworks exploding around her in her dream. There could be thousands of people watching. There could even be people trying to pull them apart and screaming at them to stop kissing because there's a hoard of zombies chasing after them.

But even if there were any of those things... Even if this were a dream... She knows one thing to be true. She sure as hell never wants to wake up because this is without doubt, the best thing that's ever happened to her.


	11. Part Eleven

**Title:**Waiting On The World To Change [Part Eleven]**  
****Rating:**NC-17**  
****Word Count: **6.1k**  
****Author's Note: **Big apologies for the wait on this update! If you follow me on Tumblr you'll know I had so much work to do and didn't have any time to write. But here it is, now! Better late than never!**  
****Author's Note 2: **I have now got myself a mystery beta... So thank you to her, you know who you are!

* * *

Santana lifts her legs, stretching them out along the width of the sofa cushions and Brittany shifts above her, keeping their lips pressed together as her knees dig into the space beside her hips, so she's straddling Santana. The new position pulls a low, throaty groan from the back of Santana's throat and she feels fingers tighten in her hair, and Brittany tilts, switching the kiss to deepen it as they fall back, Santana's spine digging into the arm of the couch. A smile forms against her mouth as her fingers skate up Brittany's side and she mirrors it. So very aware that they're kissing.

"We're kissing," she mumbles against the other girl's mouth, which causes a vibrating giggle to flow onto her tongue. It makes her eyes roll back into her head and hips involuntarily twitch.

"Mmhmm_," _Brittany hums in agreement, grazing her teeth along Santana's lower lip before pulling back. "We are," she continues when their lips have parted.

Santana just grins, not quite believing this is happening and stretches her neck to press their lips back together again. Just to make sure it's not a dream. Her hands slip underneath the other girls top, the tips of fingers tracing invisible patterns along the smooth expanse of Brittany's lower back. Hips roll into her own as a tongue flicks against her lip and she swears to God her heart just doubled in size. Not to mention something _else _that's doubling in size with every second they kiss. A light flush covers her body as she inhales deeply through her nose and opens her mouth, granting access to a seeking tongue.

She almost passes out when a soft tongue, sweet and hesitant brushes against her own. Tracing a small circle around the tip before delving in and licking the contours of her mouth. The once light flush, scorches and explodes into a hot flame and pricks every inch of her skin as it spreads like wildfire. Her hands immediately drop to Brittany's ass, tugging until she feels herself growing inside her jeans with the movement. A low whimper comes from the blonde and Santana flicks her tongue against the other girl's before pulling away for air.

Brittany's staring down at her. Cheeks flushed, lips swollen and ears pink and so fucking beautiful it almost hurts to stare at the damn girl. Something skips inside of her. Her heartbeat, she reckons and she removes one hand, sliding it up a toned body until she can brush back a lock of golden hair and tuck it behind her ear. Her eyes follow the movement, appreciating every touch and how it surges through her body like a spark.

She's fucking crazy about this girl.

"What?" Brittany asks, shyly, licking her lips and breathing heavily.

Santana almost forgets to answer the question when her fingers linger down the the soft skin of Brittany's neck and feels the pulse flutter beneath her fingertips. It's throbbing heavily. Pounding like there's so much emotion Brittany can't possibly contain it and she knows hers is doing the same. She can hear the damn thing in her ears.

**"**You're beautiful," she murmurs, her own heart jumping at the declaration.

Brittany's eyes soften to a pastel blue and Santana feels the breath catch in her throat at how the girl's looking at her. Caring, kind and so affectionate she's pretty sure her heart's about to burst into flames. Sharing a quick smile, Brittany interrupts her by sliding her hands further into dark hair and pulling until they're kissing again. Hot, open mouthed, but sweet and gentle like they've been doing this for years.

Santana's had plenty of practise making out with girls and making sure _not _to get too hard. There's been countless times when she was just about to slide her hand underneath the elastic of the girl's thongs, when the door burst in and a little brother or a mother or a sister, or even a fucking dog walked in and ruined the moment. Leaving her blue balled and pressing up against her zipper.

And now that Brittany's hips are rocking into her own, and she can feel the blood and heat rush to her groin as she counters each movement with a mirrored version of her own, it should be easy to do the usual. Just close her eyes, think of something a little _less _sexy, (she used to use Rachel Berry before the girl wore a hideous argyle skirt to school one day and revealed a set of not-so-stubbly tanned legs) and feel a wave of cool wash over her body and then she'd be cool to make out for a while.

Except obviously, as always, Brittany's different. Her mind races as a tongue sweeps across her own, and she thinks of everything from baby elephants to her grandmother. But nothing works. Something tightens inside of her stomach like a coil and she wonders how a mouth can taste so fucking good. Be so fucking intoxicating. Brittany tastes like sweetness and cream, and it pulses through her body and makes a shudder emanate through her body. It's pretty fucking difficult not to get hard with the combination of emotional seduction as well as physical.

So she makes a snap decision to change their position. Mental tricks won't work. Physical is the only option left.**  
**Sliding her hands back around to Brittany's ass, from where they were on the girl's hips, she lifts and twists, throwing her legs over the edge of the sofa and leaning into the back of the couch. It causes Brittany to shift a little, relieving the pressure from Santana's hips to her lap and thighs. But Brittany's lips never stray from her own, still sucking gently on her lower one as nails graze against her scalp and _ohmygod _this is so not fucking working.

Heat creeps around her collar and her heart's beating a mile a minute as they kiss slowly, tongues memorizing each other's mouths and lips caressing with utter tenderness. She tries to focus on how she's being kissed and dominated, but that just intensifies the arousal and she finds her thighs pressing together tightly as teeth gently bite on her lip and make her squirm.

It's too much. If she doesn't stop kissing this girl, in about four minutes they're both going to be naked, panting heavily against each other's mouths and hips rocking as Santana feels wet heat coat her cock as she slides in and out of a tight entrance._Shit, shit, shit. _She can't think like this.

"Britt-Britt-Brittany," she manages to get out around Brittany's kisses.

But the blonde just smirks against her mouth before tilting her head back and kissing down her neck. She can feel her pulse flutter underneath Brittany's lips and begins to knead her fingers into the other girl's ass, pulling them together against. It pulls a low, throaty groan from her chest and the hands sliding around her neck, moving down her body and slipping underneath the hem of her top suddenly become to hot and heavy.

This will not end well if she doesn't stop now.

"We nee-" she bites down on her bottom lip hard when Brittany sucks at her pulse point. The girl knows her damn body better than herself and they've only been making out for about ten minutes. "We need to stop," she blurts out, hands moving to push at the other girl's shoulders. "We need to stop," she repeats. Even though she's pretty sure it's more for herself than Brittany.

Brittany pulls back, breathless, and smiles down at her. "Why?"

"Because..." her eyes flicker around the room as she tries to find the right words to say. "Because I..." she gulps, licks her lips and ducks her head to focus on the slither of skin showing between Brittany's shorts and top. Probably not a good idea. "_Ilikeyou."_

Brittany giggles and leans down to press her lips gently to Santana's. "I know that," she mutters against the other girl's mouth. "It'd be hard not to."

Each word that escapes her lips causes her top one to brush against Santana's, whose eyes begin to flutter shut as she feels the letters imprint onto her skin and flow into her mouth. Brittany's hot breath coats her tongue and when the girl pulls away, sitting up straight and piling her hair on top of her hair, she sucks in her lips to hold onto every last atom of Brittany's flavour.

"But usually when two people like each other," Brittany dips her head and rests their foreheads together. "They kiss."

Santana bounces her knee up and down, her hands sliding around Brittany's waist and towards the hem of her shirt. "I know," she chews her bottom lip, ignoring the tang of Brittany still lingering there. "But, I just respect you," she admits, soothing her hands around a toned waist, underneath her shirt this time. Her palms tingle with the feel of hot skin beneath her touch. "And I don't want to rush... anything."

"You respect me so you don't want to kiss me?" The blonde asks with curiosity and confusion etched across her features.

"I know it sounds weird," Santana says, nudging up against Brittany's cheek until their lips brush softly and sweetly. Almost as if they didn't touch at all. "But you're different," she whispers against the other girls mouth. "And because I respect you I don't want to go to fast, or whatever," she licks her lips. "So I think instead of making out like two randy teenagers, we should take things as they come."

Brittany smirks and Santana traces her words to find the underlying dirtier meaning.

"Not like that," she purses her lips to hide the smile, amused that Brittany's actually as aroused as she is and is willing to make dirty jokes. "You know what I mean."

Fingers brush against her cheek and she looks up just in time for lips to press against her own. Her eyes flutter shut and she tilts her head, allowing Brittany to suck in her bottom lip and massage gently whilst she tries to find grounding by holding onto the girl's hips. Kissing Brittany makes her dizzy, apparently. Although, perhaps it shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Being in close proximity of the blonde makes all her senses spike and heart race, so why should kissing not create this?

"Okay," Brittany mutters, low and raspy when they break apart. "We'll take things as they come."

Santana nods and leans up to press a gently, yet meaningful kiss against impossibly soft lips. "Okay, well I'm going to go home then."

Brittany jerks her head back, confused. "Why?"

It almost makes her laugh because the answer should be pretty obvious considering their position, but she elaborates anyway.

"Because we're in your house," she whispers, almost like it's a secret. "_Alone. _You're straddling me," she looks down towards their tightly pressed hips and it pulls a low throaty moan from the pit of her stomach. Probably not the best idea as it intensifies the blood rushing to her swelling member. "And my hands are up your top," she looks up and smirks, flexing her fingers to emphasize her point. Brittany bites her lip in reaction. "And I don't think I'll be able to control myself," she shuffles to the edge of the sofa until Brittany's looping arms around her neck and pulling them close. "If I stay any longer."

"Now that's just not fair," Brittany's voice is low and raspy as she curls her arms tighter and presses their noses together, lips ghosting.

Santana leans in, breathes out heavily onto Brittany's lips and whispers, "Life isn't fair," before standing, lowering Brittany to the sofa and stepping away briskly.

With a pop, Brittany's mouth drops open and she narrows her eyes as a grin etches across her face. "Apparently not," she agrees with a half-smile, half-smirk and cocked brow.

"Well you can come say goodbye to me," she juts her head towards the door. "That's not against the rules."

She backs away slowly towards the front door, watching as Brittany pushes up from the sofa and slowly follows in her steps, sauntering instead of gliding this time. Heat prickles at her collar and she slides her finger into the fabric, pulling it away before letting it loose once more.

There's an urge, coiled and tight, forming inside of her to push aside all these thoughts about respecting Brittany and just take her right here, on the floor. But it's a urge built from the bad side of her. The one that Brittany _doesn't _like, and whether or not Brittany likes the idea of getting it on, (don't get her wrong, Santana does too,) Santana knows what would happen if she gave in to it. It wouldn't end well, and this is something she's quickly learning that she doesn't want to fuck up.

When her back hits the front door, (she knows by the mailbox opening jabbing into the top of her thighs) she smiles and bites her lip as Brittany saunters towards her, swaying her hips and making her long legs dance swoosh with every step. It's ridiculous to think someone _walking _can look sexy... But here Brittany is, proving that wrong.**  
**Santana holds out her hands, offering them to the blonde who takes them and she twirls them both, pressing into the blonde as her back hits the door and breathes in through her nose.

Brittany smells so fucking good.

Especially up close. There's that faint scent the wafts up from her skin from coconut body wash, and then there's that fruity shampoo smell coming from her hair. Not to mention that underlying sweetness that can only be Brittany.

_Fuck, _it's driving Santana wild.

Her eyes flutter open when hands cup her cheeks, and she's instantly met with soft lips brushing gently against her own. Just once. She lets out a long, heavy sigh that causes her stomach to flip and her entire body deflates and sinks into Brittany's. No-one should be able to effect her like this. Effect her by making her feel like she's flying and falling all at the same time.

"So will you come with me?" She pants against Brittany's mouth when their foreheads meet. Her hands instantly fall to the girl's hips where her fingers itch and tremble to slip underneath the thin layer of fabric Brittany calls a shirt.

"Where to?" Brittany asks, just as breathless.

Santana grins. "Puckerman's party, where else?"

A chuckle escapes the blonde's lips and Santana presses her hips forward when fingers tangle in her hair at the base of her neck. "It depends."

"On?"

"Are you going to turn back into an ass?" Brittany asks, but there's affection lacing her tone.

She feels her face falter and looks down. Brittany just giggles and shakes her head. Santana glances up, leans in and inhaling deeply when their lips meet. A hand slides down from her hair, onto her face and down her jawline as the kiss deepens and mouths open. She takes the first leap, stroking her tongue slowly inside of the other girl's mouth, tracing the roof and curling around sharp teeth which earns a satisfying whimper. Her tongue brushes along Brittany's lip as she slowly retracts it, and she's pretty sure if it wasn't for her pinning the girl to the door, and her hands around a trim waist, Brittany's knees would have just buckled.

When they pull apart, Brittany's eyes are bright and piercing and it rips the breath straight from her chest. She smiles, breathing heavily and takes note of swollen pink lips, flushed cheeks and that spark in the pools of blue that makes her stomach leap and jump.

"That wasn't an answer," Brittany murmurs, leaning in against to steal another kiss. "That was a dodge."

Santana's eyes widen slightly, but she shakes her head in denial. "Actually it wasn't, it was an urge I went with," she admits and Brittany looks down bashfully.

"Santana..."

Biting her lip, she looks towards the ground, trying not to feel the insistent tugging on her brain that tells her just how much she _can't _make a promise she won't keep. Not after all the ones she's broken so far. She doesn't want to be an ass. She doesn't want to switch into bitch mode with such practised ease that it actually scares the crap out of her. She doesn't _want _to hurt Brittany by not acting like _this –_the version of herself that she and Brittany both like – but more than anything, she doesn't want to lie to Brittany. Not anymore.

"Britt I..."

The words die as soon as they escape her lips and she looks helplessly to the floor; her entire body deflating and shoulders sagging. A hand cups her cheek as she chews on her bottom lip, expecting to be yelled at or slapped and thrown out the front door on her face and she glances up through her lashes like a kicked puppy. She seriously hopes Brittany won't kick her out or yell. They've only just got somewhere (even if she has no idea where that is) and she has no intention of going back. This place is nice for a while.

"You can't," Brittany's features are soft and it strikes Santana in the chest. This girl is so fucking wonderful. Understanding when others wouldn't even give her the time of day. "Can you?"

_No. _It's a simple two letter word. One syllable. But she can't say it because if she did, she'd be lying. There's no way in hell she can turn up at one of Puckerman's infamous parties with Brittany on her arm _and _the bitch smirk gone. That'd throw the universe off. Not to mention someone would probably get her tested for drugs.

She sucks in her lips, blinking back the heat pricking at her lids and shakes her head. If she speaks, her voice will only fail her. Brittany presses her lips together, clenching her jaw once before stepping away and removing all physical contact. That hurts more than Santana thought it would.

"Britt-"

"It's fine," Brittany cuts her off, waving her hand like she doesn't care. "You have to do what you have to do."

"Don't be like that."

A fair brow arches. "Like what?" Brittany questions, even though Santana's pretty damn sure she knows the answer.

"You know I can't change," she shakes her head slowly and looks down. "You know I can't be who you want me to be."

"You _are _who I want you to be."

Stomach fluttering, Santana feels the corners of her lips curl. But it falls just as quickly as she knows that she can't be that. She _is _that, but she can't reveal it or show it in front of anyone that doesn't share the same last name as her, or shares the surname Pierce.

"I'm not," she disagrees, sucking in a deep breath and buffing out her chest. "If I was, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Brittany takes a minute to answer, clearly thinking about it. "You are. But you're afraid to show it."

"I'm not afraid," she hisses, stepping back and over the threshold of the door. If the door was slammed in her face, she knows she'd only deserve it. Typical Santana. Having a great night and then fucking it up.

"Don't do that," Brittany says, softly, reaching forward to tug on Santana's sleeve. "Don't shut me out."

But apparently she has other ideas, and she yanks her arm back and sneers: "You don't know me," because, well, she has no excuse to be honest. Only the fact that she's a bitch can slightly explain her sudden outburst. But obviously she's going for broke. If she's fucked this thing between them up already, she might as well do a thorough job of it.

"You can't push me away," Brittany's voice is a little harder and Santana almost smiles because of it. Girl isn't afraid to stand up for herself. Hot.

Santana pulls her brows together and tries to think of ways to make this up to the blonde because she already feels guilty. She scuffs her sneaker against the concrete of the stoop and fiddles with her fingers in front of her, thoughts running through her mind at the speed of light. All of which are pretty useless though. Brittany just stands there, hurt flashing behind blue eyes, lower lip jutting out farther and farther as she drums her fingertips along the ridge of the door frame and studies Santana.

She kind of hates that.

No, scratch that. She _really _hates that.

"Come with me," she finally says. A hell of a lot softer this time. She steps forward and into Brittany's personal bubble, lifting one hand to tangle their fingers together and with the other, brushing a lock of blonde hair back. She tries to ignore the way Brittany's body flinches at the touch because even she surprises herself with how quickly she can switch moods.

"Come with me," she repeats. "I can't promise you I'll be _this _me, but I'll tone it down. To someone more like the person you know," her thumb runs along a high cheekbone as her eyes flicker between blue, trying to catch them. They're just staring aimlessly past her head and to the side. "I'm not trying to push you away."

"I know," Brittany sighs after a long moment. Finally responding to Santana's touch by cupping her wrist and resting the other on a tanned collarbone, fingers stroking lightly. Blue eyes meet brown and the world is restored again. If only for this moment. "I'm used to you being an ass."

Santana chuckles and scrunches up her nose. "Can I kiss you?" She asks, boldly, because before she would've just done it but Snix (_yes, _her bitchy personality has a damn name) decided to make an appearance.

"If you don't you'll be a bigger ass," Brittany jibes back, her tongue poking out to wet pink lips that curl into a grin.

That's not a straight forward yes, so it sort of confuses Santana for a split second. But she doesn't really care because Brittany's grinning down at her, shuffling forward until their toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose and she's tilting onto the balls of her feet because the blondes that little bit taller. She's kind of starting to love that. She lingers for a second, counting the eyelashes and freckles along the other girls face before letting out a soft sigh and leaning forward, waiting until a hand curls underneath her jaw and tugs to press their lips together.

She's pretty sure she's never going to tire of kissing this girl.

It's a brief kiss, one that only involves two quick brushes, a slight nose nudge and a quiet giggle that vibrates into her mouth and down her spine because she teetered and swayed when their lips initially touched. She pulls away, head slightly dizzy from the kiss and lets her body relax into the aftermath of it. Feels amazing.

"I'll see you at school?" Santana asks, eyes fluttering open.

Brittany bites her lip and nods, trying to hide the smile that both of them are sporting. There's nothing even remotely funny. It's just the effect they have on each other. Can't stop smiling. Saps. "Sure."

"Awesome," she bounces on her feet and waits a second, eyes suggestive.

"You're such a tool," the blonde says quickly, leaning in and kissing her again quickly before nuzzling their noses together and standing back. A good half a metre between them.

"S'how we do," Santana shrugs like a gangster, matching the accent she just put on.

Brittany chuckles. "Dork," she says, tapping Santana's nose.

"Takes one to know one," Santana winks as she turns on her heel, flicks the lapels of her coat up and shoves her hands into her jacket pocket.

Brittany giggles from behind her and she feels blue eyes follow her until she's in the car. Even then they follow her down the street, and she meets them once, giving a small wave that in about an hour she'll realize how stupid that must have looked.

* * *

"Why are you humming?"

Santana stills from where she's packing her textbooks into her locker and retrieves her folder. "I'm not," she replies, lamely.

"You were," Quinn says, lowly, hazel eyes narrowing as they bore into the side of her head.

"It's true," Sugar pipes up, grinning like she has a clue what's going on. "You were humming Michael Buble."

Narrowing her eyes, and shutting her locker, Santana spin on her heel and tries to ignore the smile tugging at her lips. Doesn't exactly scream _head bitch _when she's walking around with a Cheshire grin spread across her face. It's seriously becoming increasingly hard to keep up with Snix.

"Wasn't."

"You were," Quinn drags out, narrowing her eyes, scrunching her brows together and looking altogether curious. She taps her foot along the floor, looks to Sugar and the back again like she's trying to figure out what the hell's going on. Sugar doesn't even know so Santana has _no _idea what _that _was for. "What's got into you?"

Meanwhile, across the hallway, Brittany walks (well, _glides_) around the corner and Santana completely tunes out of the current conversation - all focus on the blonde girl heading towards her. Her eyes rake up the length of the girl, and she feels something inflate in her stomach like a balloon - with every step Brittany takes, it's like someone blows a little more air into her lungs and she almost can't contain herself. All her surroundings blur, and it rips the breath straight from her chest when blue eyes flicker up and meet brown, smiling through the crowds of students blocking the path between them. Doesn't even seem like they're there, though.

This girl's got to have been sent from above. Flowing golden locks, wild around her shoulders and sparkling blue eyes that seem to brighten even if the darkest of days. If Brittany turned around one day and said she were _actually _an angel sent from heaven, Santana wouldn't even be surprised. She's too perfect.

"...Are you even listening?"

Santana barely registers that Quinn's mouth is moving until the pounding in her chest becomes almost deafeningly loud and she looks around to find what the hell it is. She watches Brittany pause, watch the Cheerios exchange, unsure of what to do and suddenly Santana's hovering between Quinn and the other blonde, choosing whether or not she should stay or go and say hello. After all, she's not really sure where she and Brittany stand.

Does she say hello? Does she kiss her in lieu of a greeting? Hug her? Hold hands? _Jesus. _She totally has _no _game.

"Jesus, Santana," Quinn heavily exhales with frustration. "You could at least fucking liste-"

Interrupting Quinn's little rant, Santana holds up her hand in front of the blondes face. "Wait, two seconds," she says, twisting her body to slide through the gap between the two girls in front of her and over towards Brittany. She misses the way Quinn's jaw drops and how Sugar grins proudly.

It seems all the holidays have come at once when Brittany notices Santana's movements and glances down at the floor bashfully.

(_Fuck, _she gets cuter every day.)

The walk up to the girl is painfully slow, and she's really fucking glad that the hallway's part like the Red Sea whenever she's there because if not, she probably would've walked into at least ten other students. And possibly fallen flat on her face. Every step she takes increases the volume and speed of her pulse and her throat becomes impossibly dry. She gets so damn nervous around this girl it's unnerving.

Santana smiles as soon as she takes the final step to be in front of Brittany.

"Hey," she breathes.

Brittany's face lights up and her eyes move between each of Santana's. "Hi."

Santana feels the blood creep onto her cheek and ducks her head. She can't fucking _blush_from greeting Brittany. That's beyond embarrassing. "Are you okay?"

"I'm good," Brittany replies immediately, chewing her bottom lip and grinning. "And you?"

She almost faints at the urge to kiss the blonde when she sees a pink tongue poke out and swipe at the lip that was just being bitten. It pulls a strange whimper from the pit of her stomach that she covers up by saying, "I'm awesome," a little too enthusiastically.

"Awesome?" Brittany beams, knowingly.

"Yeah, awesome."

Brittany giggles and Santana clutches tighter onto her folder, her knuckles turning impossibly white as she itches to just reach out and touch the girl. It's only when Brittany looks over her shoulder that the urge fades a little, instead replaced by curiosity and slight fear.

"Did you just leave Quinn and Sugar to come and say hello to me?" Brittany asks, but there's an underlying tone of affection that curls warmly around Santana's heart.

Santana laughs, trying not to blush further. Sometimes she's so thankful for her ethnicity. At least it hides it a little.

"Yeah, I-" she looks over her own shoulder towards Quinn who's still standing there who's looking wholly suspicious and Sugar who's staring at the students that walk by. "I didn't know if that was okay."

"Of course it is," Brittany cuts in, leaning against the wall and planting one foot onto it.

Santana's arm burns with the need to lean in, palm to the wall, press their hips together and kiss the girl until neither of them can breathe. It's silly how much she already misses the feeling of warm, soft lips on her own and the way her body tingles. They've only kissed a few times... But a few amazing times...

Okay, she totally _can't _think about that right now.

"Cool," Santana rocks onto the balls of her feet to exude some of the excitement bursting through her and her eyes flutter shut when the vanilla of Brittany's skin wafts upwards.

A low, throaty moan comes from her mouth and a small giggle comes from in front of her. She opens her eyes and immediately grins at the expression on Brittany's face. She's smiling... But it's like the most beautiful smile Santana's ever seen, and that includes the time she met Jessica Alba at that weird Colgate convention her dad made her go to. Wasn't so bad when she saw the Hollywood starlet, though. Except for the bulging erection in the middle of the damn hall. That was pretty awkward.

"Wanna come to my house, later?"

It's unexpected. So much so that even her eyes pop open at the question. Sure, it was running through her mind, but she doesn't want to freak Brittany out with the invitation. Heat builds around her collar and she suddenly feels incredibly self-conscious of the response she's going to receive? _Damn it. _What was she even fucking thinking?

"Yeah," Brittany says, softly. "I'd love to."

She exhales a little louder than she thought and licks her lips. Relief washes through her and she doesn't resist the urge this time, instead reaching out and running her fingertip down the length of Brittany's forearm, lingering over her palm and fingertips. She flexes her own fingers through the gaps in Brittany's and smiles down at the interaction, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding. The touch surges around her body, buzzing and tingling and she swears it's almost as good as kissing the girl.

Her eyes flicker up to those pink lips. Okay, maybe not better than kissing her.

Returning to her feet, Santana sucks in her lips and smiles at Brittany like she's_not _throwing a little '_Brittany's coming over_' party inside her head. "Good, good," she says in hope that it comes out nonchalant. Probably doesn't. "So, I'll see you in Spanish, second period, and then at my house, later? I'll meet you halfway 'cause it's only a short walk," Brittany's face doesn't question but Santana feels the need to explain. "I live in Lima Heights Adjacent which can be a bit dodgy at night," that's a lie. "So just to make sure you're safe, I'll come meet you" she exhales and looks down towards the floor to shake her head at herself. Brittany giggles and her eyes flicker up to meet a soft expression. "I'm rambling aren't I?"

"Yeah, you are," Brittany breathes, her lips curling up to her ears and eyes sparkling brighter than ever. "But it's cute."

Santana twists her lips to hide the smile, but fails miserably. "Britt..." she half-whines in a quiet voice. There are people around and she's pretty sure she's blushing right now.

A hand comes up to stroke at her cheek and she leans into the touch, heart flipping at the sensation. The next thing she knows, hot breath and lips tickle her ear shell and a shudder vibrates from the base of her spine up to the nape of her neck.

"Quinn's still staring, so I'm going to walk away now," Brittany whispers, voice low but irresistibly soft. "And resist the urge to kiss you, but I'll see you later in Spanish," she pulls away. "Okay?"

Santana barely manages to get the words out, but she nods too just to make sure the weird, positive gargling sound did actually sound like a _yes. _Brittany shoots her one last smile, and then brushes past her with a skip and a hop in her step.

Her eyes never leave the blonde until it's impossible to bend her sight around a corner, and she doesn't stop smiling until Sugar pokes her cheek when they sit down next to each other in Advanced Math.

She doesn't think she's ever been more excited for Spanish class.

* * *

**Hope you're enjoying! Drop a comment if you got time?**


	12. Part Twelve

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Twelve]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **14.5k  
**Author's Note:** Thank you to my beta, she's awesome as always.  
**Author's Note 2: **I know it's been a long wait for this chapter, but I've been busy so instead of a silly apology... Here's a _super _long chapter! Longer than _anything _I've _ever _written!  
**Author's Note 3: **For the person who asked for my Tumblr, check my biography on my profile page of FF.  
**Author's Note 4: **I know, _another _note_. _But I just wanted to give you guys a song to listen to whilst reading the end of this chapter. Add this - /watch?v=q08dZ_4ivBA – onto the YouTube URL and give it a listen!

* * *

The door swings open. Santana glances up from her desk and grins immediately. Usually this isn't the reaction to someone walking into her Spanish class, but she's been sitting here for about five minutes, impatiently tapping her foot as she waits for a certain someone to waltz through the door because when she sat down... She was alone.

Her pen drops out her hand and she clasps her hands together on the table top, shielding some of the excitement buzzing through her body as Brittany glides down the aisle and around their shared desk. The seat scrapes against the linoleum floor, but Santana just continues staring ahead towards the front of the class because if she looks to her left, she won't be able to stop.

Since this morning, when Quinn began to get suspicious and shit, the hazel eyed blonde's been giving her strange looks and whispering things to Sugar who just shrugged and casually changed conversation. Or insulted someone without meaning to.

Maybe it wasn't best to walk away half-way through a conversation with the other Cheerios. Doesn't mean she regrets it though. Her skin is still tingling from Brittany's touch... Even if the interaction was two hours ago. Absently toying with the bracelet on her wrist, she relaxes at Brittany's presence and feels it wash over her body. She's instantly calmer, even if she wasn't _not _calm before.

Except it kind of ruins the feeling when her eyes flicker up to Quinn's desk to find the blonde staring back at her with narrowed eyes and a _what the fuck? _expression on her face.

"Hey, stranger," Brittany whispers, leaning in and bumping their shoulders together.

Santana almost follows the movement when the blonde breaks their contact. "Hello," she says, sheepishly, biting down the urge.

"Where's Mr Martinez?"

"He left when I arrived," Santana explains, clearing her throat and pulling her brows together as she focuses intently on her notepad in front of her. After all, people are around and she's already doing the opposite of playing it cool. "Told us to get on with our assignment."

"Our assignment?" Brittany's voice is a lighter higher than usual. Surprised, Santana thinks. "Wasn't that set for out of school?"

Santana shrugs, playing with the end of her pencil. Quinn's still staring, and she wishes she would just fucking stop. "I don't know, guess so."

"Right..." Brittany twists in her chair, turning to face Santana side on. Her hand comes out, reaching for a tanned one on the table and clutching to tug gently, ushering Santana to turn too. She does. "Come on then."

Santana blinks slowly, and turns her head, just enough to see the blonde, but also enough to see the quizzical glare she can feel boring into the side of her head. Quinn, no doubt. Her back straightens and she clears her throat, trying to act cool despite the flush of heat crawling across her skin at the simple touch of Brittany's hand against her own. She doesn't yank her hand back, though. Just drops their hands beneath the desk, onto Brittany's knee where it's out of sight.

She feels Quinn lessen the curiosity glare, but also feels the way Brittany's body deflates at the motion, then slowly moves to retract her hand. Santana's palm feels instantly ice cold and she turns back in her seat, inwardly cursing at Quinn for _not _yelling at or bullying Berry this lesson. That would've been a distraction, at least.

Brittany shuffles away, scooting her chair a bit and then it's back to normalcy and Santana feels guilt drop in her stomach when Quinn smirks and returns her attention to Rachel who's babbling away.

Maybe Spanish wasn't such a good idea.

* * *

It's the end of the day. Which means only a few more hours until Brittany comes over.

Although, now she's thinking about it, Santana's not entirely sure if Brittany's is still coming over. Not after Spanish lesson earlier, when she dropped their intertwined hands like she'd just been burned by an open hot flame. Brittany probably thinks she's embarrassed to be with her now, even when it's not that at all. It's more like Quinn's so judgemental and forceful that it'll bring up the whole 'bet' thing, and therefore it'll piss Santana off and possibly make her feel guiltier. Not sure if that's possible, but yeah.

Pushing her thoughts aside, she heads out of school and down towards her car after the bell rings. Quinn and Sugar have already left. Well, Quinn ran off after texting Puckerman at lunch, and Sugar began flirting with that guy Jason or Jude or whatever his name is and sent him a quick text – probably along the lines of '_meet me in my car' _or something. Sugar isn't exactly shy about what she wants.

She's just about to reach her car when she hears graceful footsteps behind her. She turns on instinct, knowing they're too light to be just anyone and smiles at the sight of Brittany slowly walking behind her with her head ducked to her chest.

Except the smile slowly fades when she thinks back to their last interaction and the expression on Brittany's face.

Stupid Spanish class was supposed to be a nice, calming period where she could spend it flirting innocently (or not so innocently but who knows that?) and just dwelling in the happiness she was feeling. It wasn't supposed to be an hour of feeling bad and wishing she could just reach out and tangle their fingers together without a care in the world.

With her thoughts gradually escalating in frustration, her footsteps pause and she hooks her thumb underneath the strap of her backpack, shrugging it up with the aid of a shoulder roll. She doesn't even think to look around to see who's still in the parking lot when Brittany continues towards her.

"Hey, Britt," she tries, forcing a hopeful smile and lifting her hand in an awkward half-wave.

Brittany's lips quirk up quickly, but she just replies with a small, "Hey, Santana," before brushing past the brunette and towards the exit of the parking lot.

Santana frowns and twirls around. The blonde is walking away from her and she's suddenly torn between jumping in her car and driving away, (because frankly she warned Brittany about their relationship in school so it kind of pisses her off Brittany's acting like this), and the urge to run after the girl.

She hesitates for about three seconds, which is about five long strides for Brittany, and then makes her move. There's a part of her that wonders if she even really had a choice.

"Britt!" She calls, starting into a slow jog because Brittany has long ass legs, which equals long ass steps. "Wait up!"

Brittany looks over her shoulder, but doesn't still. "What do you want?"

"Britt," she says in a slight whine. "Please, don't be angry."

"I'm not angry," the blonde says, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. "It's fine."

Pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger with one hand, Santana reaches out and grabs Brittany's elbow to stop her from walking. Almost instantly, blue eyes are glaring at her with a _'stop touching me' _expression, but she just stares it out, willing it to go away. Not like she doesn't already know how much of a bitch she is.

"Please," she pleas, softly, eyes flickering down to the floor before returning to bright orbs. Dropping her hand to the side from her face, she spares a quick glance around the car park and then offers her hand out like she's offering herself. Despite the half-full parking lot. "I'm sorry," she whispers honestly. "If I could go back in time and wave our hands," she picks up their clutched hands and waves them beside them, earning a half-smile from Brittany, "In front of Quinn's face, I would."

A small, hesitant smile creeps onto her lips and she waits, hopefully, watching the process of decision making flicker across Brittany's face. She could either be slapped in the face or embarrassed by being yelled at. But she doesn't really care all that much for it. She understands how much this whole dual persona thing must really piss Brittany off and the least she can do is apologise when she _knows _she's been an ass. Even if Brittany doesn't accept it.

The anger in Brittany's features break and her shoulders deflate when she releases a sigh. "You can't always be an ass, you know," she breathes in and shakes her head before squeezing Santana's hand. "I'm not going to put up with it all the time."

Santana lets out a small, hesitant chuckle. "I know," she whispers, her thumb rubbing over the back of Brittany's knuckles. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

Crunching her face together with hope, Santana asks, "Are you still mad?"

"No," Brittany responds almost immediately. "You're too cute to be mad at."

Santana grins. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Her face flushes and she looks down, bashfully. Brittany's looking at her with this adoration that curls around her heart, and even though about five minutes ago, she was practically in the dog house, she knows she isn't now and can't not smile at that. Her eyes flicker up, gazing into blue as she sucks in a shaky breath that slides down the back of her throat and settles in the pit of her stomach. Brittany even has an effect on her fucking breathing.

"Are you still," she lifts her head and clears her throat, feeling the raspy edge in her voice. "Are you still coming over, tonight?"

Brittany nods, but there's something that Santana can't quite figure out. "If that's still okay."

"Why wouldn't that be okay?"

A small shrug comes before Brittany's words. "I don't know..." she says, slowly, looking down to their hands. "I didn't know if you'd want to back out."

Santana's eyes widen. "Why would I back out?"

"I don't know..." Brittany bites her bottom lip and glances to their feet which are practically toe-to-toe. "You just might."

"Well, There's a first time for everything," she replies, watching Brittany shudder when her fingertips trace over her brow as if she's pushing back a lock of hair. "So I still want you to come over, if you still want to."

Brittany looks up, but her lips are pressed together like she's trying to hide a smile. "I'd love to," she lets out. Her face spreading into a grin. "You'll still meet me halfway, though, right? Because, you know, Lima Heights Adjacent is _so_ badass with its multi-million dollar houses," Brittany teases, sticking out her tongue and biting it between her teeth whilst smiling.

"Shut up," Santana twists her body from side to side, embarrassed. "It's just the thing to do."

"Thing to do?"

"Yeah," she nods, suddenly nervous and worried over her words.

Brittany narrows her eyes, curiously, not aggressively. "How so?"

Santana scuffs her sneaker along the gravel before responding. "It's what people do," she shrugs and swings their clasped hands between their bodies. "On dates," she whispers, almost so quietly she's not sure she said it.

"A date?" Brittany's voice is high, which means surprised, but there's a distinct level of excitement there, too. Santana smiles because of it. "So tonight is a date?"

Looking around like the answer's going to be somewhere in the parking lot, Santana notices that the majority of the cars have gone, and that no-one even bothered them whilst they were talking. Because no-one cares that they were talking. Or holding hands. A little hope bursts through her chest when she thinks of the possibilities that could proceed from that.

"If you want it to be," she tries to say it confidently, but her tone wavers and Brittany grins, hearing it. "I mean," she glances down to their hands and strokes her fingers in between the gaps of Brittany's. "I want it to be, but..."

"Then I want it to be too," Brittany cuts in.

Santana snaps her head up and bounces excitedly on her feet. "Really?" She asks, but then hears how lame she sounds and clears her throat and returns her heels to the concrete. "I mean," she coughs. "That's cool," she shrugs cooly. "Whatever."

Brittany steps forward and kicks her foot against Santana's calf. "You're an ass," she whispers, playfully.

"Tell me something I don't know," Santana replies, smiling and watching how blue eyes trail a slow path down her face and linger around the bottom half. She licks her lips, breath growing shallow as she makes her own way around Brittany's face with her eyes. Over the high ledge of her cheekbone, the curve of her brow and down the bridge of her nose, taking in every freckle. Her heart thumps unsteadily against her chest, skipping a beat as pink lips part, sharp white teeth revealing themselves. She barely even notices that she's been staring until those lips edge towards her and make a quick detour to peck against her cheek, breaking her out of the daze.

Pulling her eyebrows together, she pouts and tugs on Brittany's hands impatiently to bring their bodies closer together. But Brittany pulls back, shaking her head and clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as if to say _no._

"We're in public," Brittany says like she doesn't really care.

Santana knows better though and rolls onto the balls of her feet to look over the other girls shoulder. Scanning around briefly, she grins mischievously and pulls on Brittany's hands until they're behind her BMW, out of view of anyone leering from the school and under the shadow caused by her car. She spins them quickly, pushing the blonde back until Brittany's back hits the car door, and their bodies press together with no room between, one hand on the glass by a blonde head of hair and the gripping a hip firmly.

"I don't care," she whispers, closing the gap between them to press her lips to Brittany's.

Sinking into the kiss, her feet shuffle closer and hips wiggle distractingly as she feels the blonde smile against her mouth. It pulls a strange, guttural moan from her throat and Brittany shifts, switching the kiss until Santana feels her bottom lip being taken between two impossibly soft ones and warm, wetness stroke along the ridge of it. She swears if it wasn't for the fingers curling around her neck and cupping her cheek, she'd probably buckle to the ground.

She pulls away, breathless, and bumps their noses together affectionately. Brittany pants against her lips, leaning in once more to press a lingering kiss before pulling away and resting her head against the glass. For pretty much, the whole day, Santana's been waiting to do that. Even when Brittany was mad at her. All she wanted to do was to kiss the anger away.

"Someone's been wanting to do that for a while," the blonde whispers, her lips spreading into a knowing smile.

Santana takes in a deep, shaky breath. "You have no idea," she replies, with a little more honesty than she intended.

"I do," Brittany straightens up, and slides out of Santana's grip to stand idly by the car.

Staring, Santana narrows her eyes, unsure of what the other girl's waiting for. Her eyes flicker from side to side, darting around the parking lot as the sound of cars beeping and birds chirping invade their conversation from the distance.

"Can I help you with something?" She asks after a long moment, eyebrows raising and lips quirking into a curious smile.

Brittany lifts one hand and sweeps it towards the passenger side door, but stays silent.

"Britt," Santana chuckles, crossing her arms. "It's not our date, yet."

"And at this rate there won't be one," Brittany grins. "Not if you won't even open the car door for me."

"You're unbelievable."

"And you're driving me home, so open the door for me."

Santana can't help but giggle at how the other girl tries to sound serious, but fails as there's a chuckle in her tone and it's said with a cheesy grin. Stretching out, she plucks open the door handle and with her free hand, waves dramatically whilst curtseying as if to say _"you may enter" _to the blonde, who nods gratefully and slides inside the car. It only takes a few seconds for her to hop around to the drivers side and slide in, but instead of switching on the ignition, she twists in her seat to face the other girl and grins.

"Would you also like me to help you put your seatbelt on?" She teases.

Brittany scrunches her nose up, then leans over until their faces are barely an inch away, "I think I'm capable of doing that."

"Oh," Santana lets out, her breath stilling as her eyes flicker down to pink lips. "Well if you're sure."

"I'm sure."

Brittany leans back in her seat and Santana gulps heavily, before turning back towards the wheel and sliding the keys in to start the car. One day, Brittany's going to be the death of her.

* * *

"So what time are you coming to meet me?"

Santana switches off the ignition outside Brittany's house and peers over the other girls shoulder to see the curtains sway as if someone was just looking out of them. Her brows furrow but when a finger taps her nose she zones back onto the blonde and feels her lips tug up at the side.

"Um," her eyes flicker around as she searches for an answer. "Can't I just come and pick you up from your house?"

Brittany giggles. "Santana, I'm not a child. I think I can handle walking halfway. In fact, I could probably walk the entire way if someone wasn't so insistent," her eyebrows quirk up quickly.

Biting her lips, Santana runs her hands around the edge of the steering wheel, sheepishly. "I wanna do this right," she murmurs, lowly.

"You are doing this right," Brittany replies as she reaches over and places her hand over the back of a tanned one, stilling the movement. "So, what time?"

"7.30? At the park on Garland Avenue?"

"Awesome," Brittany smiles and leans in to peck her cheek, but Santana moves quickly to capture lips between her own. Her heart flutters rapidly and she brings a hand up to thread through golden locks to secure their faces together. They shift, tilting their heads to deepen the kiss and it's like for a whole minute, they totally forget the fact that they're sitting outside Brittany's house in broad daylight as she runs her tongue along Brittany's lip and dips inside slowly.

But apparently Brittany's not oblivious to that fact and pulls away, just before things get a little too heated.

"My mom's in there," Brittany mumbles against her lips. "Probably watching us."

Santana chuckles. "Me and your mom are tight," she feigns a gangster accent and sits back in her chair, moving her hands back too. "She won't mind."

"Yeah, yeah," Brittany chuckles, looking down at her lap. She glances up and and sighs. "I'll see you tonight, then?"

"Yep. 7.30 sharp, Pierce."

Brittany winks and Santana's distracted enough by her insides melting that she barely registers the girl leaning over until lips press quickly against her cheek. The passenger side door opens and the blonde slips out, slinging her bag over her shoulder before turning briefly and whispering, "Later, Lopez."

Santana's left with a huge smile on her face, eyes trained on Brittany's swaying hips and long legs as she glides down the pathway and into her house. She doesn't need to be a time traveller to know tonight's going to be good.

* * *

She's leaning against a lamppost, hands tucked into her pockets as her eyes scan around the surrounding area when she spots Brittany. Brittany's walking around the corner with her arms crossed and eyes sparkling brightly, visible even in this distance.

Santana allows herself to trail a path down the girl's body because Brittany's got the type of figure that just needs appreciated, and up close it gets kind of embarrassing to just stand and stare. So she does just that. Stands, waits and stares as the blonde heads towards her with graceful steps.

It is kind of frustrating how beautiful Brittany can look in leggings, ankle boots and a crotch length top. Such a simple outfit, yet one that highlights every womanly curve and . So much so that by the time Santana's stopped admiring the girl, Brittany's standing in front of her and gazing down at her own outfit.

"Is this alright?" Brittany asks, quietly. "I've never really been to someone's house for a date before so I don't know if this is too casual or too for-"

Santana cuts her off by stepping close, sliding her fingers up to her chin and pressing their lips together. Bold move, she knows, but she's wanted to do that since she first laid eyes on the blonde at the end of the road. Knowing that this is a first for both of them quells the jittery feeling in her bones a little, so her forward actions don't seem all that bad. Seems to have calmed both of them considering Brittany has stopped rambling now.

"It's beautiful," she whispers, her top lip brushing against Brittany's bottom one.

Brittany blushes and Santana makes a note to kiss the girl whenever she can. It could quite easily become an addiction of hers. One that could possibly change her.

"Shall we walk?" She offers out her hand and steps back. Brittany smiles, looks up and then slides her fingers through Santana's before they walk in step with each other in the direction of the Lopez household.

Santana doesn't tell her that she's taking the long way round just because she likes the feeling of Brittany's fingers laced with her own.

* * *

The walk only takes like three minutes, but that was three minutes that Santana got to cherish the warmth in her palm and the feeling of Brittany beside her. There was a comfortable conversation between them. Not too forced or fast and not too slow or dull. Perfect, actually.

But now she's standing outside her front door, flipping her keys in her hand to find the silver one, she realizes how big of a deal this is - Brittany coming to her house. Still, despite the anxiety she feels and the nervous fluttering in her stomach, she slides the key into the lock, dropping Brittany's hand and pushes open the door.

The warmth of the house greets them instantly, and Santana turns on her porch, taking pale hands between her own, after tucking her keys back into her pocket, and stares deeply into blue eyes. Searching for the strength and support she knows lingers behind them. After all, it's a first for both of them, so they're both there for each other.

She takes in a deep breath, in attempt to calm her nerves and smiles. "Ready?"

Biting her lip, Brittany nods softly and Santana almost faints with urge burning through her muscles to tug the girl closer and kiss her. "I think so," her lips quirk up as a half-chuckle bubbles through them.

"Okay," Santana breathes out and straightens her back. "Let's go."

She turns her body, releasing one of their hands and lifts a foot to step over the threshold when a warm body presses up against her own and fingers around the nape of her neck. The _what the fuck _doesn't even have time to slip into her mind before it's blown straight back out again with the feeling of lips against her own. Brittany kisses her softly, slowly, moving their lips around each other innocently until all the air in her lungs disappears.

"Santana!" A voice calls from inside, but Santana's too distracted to really hear it. "You're letting all the cold air in the-"

They break, Brittany pressing her forehead to Santana's collarbone to muffle the giggle when Santana's mom bounds around the corner, grasping a dish cloth and wearing bright yellow washing up gloves. If the woman hadn't just walked in on them kissing, this would totally be embarrassing all on it's own.

"Excuse me, girls," Santana's mom clears her throat. "I didn't realize you were-"

"Yeah, mom," Santana squeezes her eyes shut and runs her hands up Brittany's arms to gently push her away and put some space between them. "We get it."

"Are you coming in? Because I'd like to keep some of the heating in."

Brittany chuckles and moves back until Santana threads their fingers together and steps in front to tug them into the house. They move into the foyer, and Santana stands behind the blonde to remove her over jacket whilst her mother closes the front door. It's only a light one, but it's still outerwear and God knows her mother wasn't joking about the heating. This house is always like a million degrees so only necessary clothing is needed. Necessary meaning something to cover up naked bodies. Although the thought of seeing Brittany naked is incredibly appealing.

_Wait, _she really shouldn't be having thoughts like this in front of her mother.

Brittany allows her coat to be removed, shrugging her shoulders in aid and then turns when Santana hooks it onto the coat rack. Moving to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Brittany, Santana looks up to her mother and smiles, trying to figure out the woman's first impressions by her facial features. So far, there's no judgemental creases or narrowing eyes, so she thinks it's good.

"How rude of Santana," her mother smiles, throws a quick glare at her before sliding one hand down to remove the yellow latex gloves and doing the same to the other. "You must be Brittany," she offers out her hand and Brittany takes it. "I'm Olivia Lopez."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs Lopez," Brittany beams, flashing her brilliant smile.

Santana smirks when she sees her mother blink in shock. She remembers the first time she saw that smile too, and how her reactions were almost identical. Sort of silly how dazzling Brittany's smile is. Then again, that's instantly an ice-breaker because the only thing that follow can be a compliment.

"Wow," Olivia says, releasing the blonde's hand. "Santana wasn't kidding."

Pulling her brows together, and seeing Brittany do the same, Santana asks, "What?"

"You really are beautiful."

A faint blush creeps upon pale cheeks, and Santana slips her hand around the girl's waist, burying her face into Brittany's shoulder and mumbling a small apology as they both begin to giggle, both embarrassed.

"Come on," Olivia ushers them towards the living room, throwing the dish rag over her shoulder. Sometimes her mother can be such a... well, _mother. _**"**You two are too skinny and you need to eat. I've prepared chicken fajitas."

Once her mother is out of earshot, and the foyer, Santana twists towards the blonde. Ignoring the fact that her mother made such a Spanish dinner. Seriously, that woman has the creativity of a brick wall.

"I'm so sorry," she mutters, thinking her ears are still a little pink from her mother's announcement. She won't deny, the first thing she said after telling her mom that Brittany was coming over was, **"**_You'll like her. She's beautiful," _in which her mother turned and said, **"**_She must be special to make you smile from that." _But it's still humiliating to have it repeated.

The whole ordeal was pretty embarrassing. Especially because her father decided that _that _was a good moment to walk in, ask what the giggling was about and then proceed to join in with the teasing that lasted for a good half hour.

"So you think I'm b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l?" Brittany draws out the last word with a smirk on her face, the top half of her body twisting shyly.

Santana scrunches her nose and then shakes her head. "You're alright," she shrugs. "I guess."

Nudging their shoulders together with a pout and furrowed brows – but a smile playing at her lips - Brittany threads their fingers and tugs Santana in the same direction her mother just went. "Oh, really? Well, maybe we should ask your mom what you said to refresh your memory."

"No, no, no," her head whips back and forth quickly, blood rushing to her cheeks. "It's alright, I think you, um," she clears her throat when they bypass the living room, where Brittany pauses to peer into, and then they resume walking again. "I think you heard," she finishes when they step into the kitchen.

"_Hmmm_," blue eyes narrow and Santana rolls her eyes. "I think I might need to hear it one more time," Brittany teases as they smile at Olivia in lieu of another greeting. "Just in case."

"Take a seat, girls," Olivia gently commands from where she's standing by the stove. "It'll only be a minute."

"Thanks, ma," Santana drops the blonde's hand and then presses hers to the small of Brittany's back, ushering her towards the table in the corner.

Usually there's four chairs, one with stickers all over it as Fernando claimed it as his at the tender age of 3, but tonight there's two, with a single vanilla candle in the middle. Her eyes narrow and she shoots her mother a glare, making sure Brittany doesn't see. Her mom just grins back and then picks up the frying pan containing the chicken and peppers.

"I won't be joining you for dinner tonight," Olivia announces as she tips the content of the pan onto a wide bowl already laid out on the counter top. "Gabriella from down the road is throwing a ladies poker night," she places the pan back onto the now off stove and picks up the full bowl, bringing it towards the table where Santana and Brittany are still standing beside it. "So I won't be back till late."

Santana runs her tongue along her teeth and studies her mom whilst her hands move, pulling out the chair and waiting until Brittany sits down to really think.

It's not like she's suspicious that her mother's being like this, it's just...

No, wait, that _is_ it. She's pretty fucking suspicious as to why her mom's cooked dinner, arranged the dining table so only two can sit, and is conveniently heading out to 'Gabriella's' house (who she's never met or heard of before tonight. _Another_ convenient factor) for a ladies poker night so she and Brittany can be left alone.

A poker night, which in fact, is very similar to what happens in _Desperate Housewives_ - which she knows was on tonight because her ass always gets kicked upstairs on a Thursday night. And now, come to think of it, Eva Longoria's character is called Gabriella in the show, too...

Her mouth drops open to ask what the hell's going on when she traces through her words and stills. There's a look on her mom's face – wide eyes, raised eyebrows and a slowly dipping head - that basically _screams "Don't ask me why I'm doing this", _and as her eyes flicker between the table, Brittany and the older woman... She gets why her mom's doing this.

This is the first time she's ever had anyone over. Literally, _anyone. _What makes it even more special is that this isn't her bringing a _friend _home, like Quinn or Sugar, and this isn't her bringing home a fuck-buddy. This is Santana bringing a _girl _home. A date kind of girl. As in romantic candles, lingering touches and goofy smiles over the table.

Then it hits her just how much she really fucking loves her mom.

"Thank you," she whispers, leaning in to peck her mother on the cheek. "I know why you're doing this," the words come out so hushed that she doubts Brittany hears. She pulls away and they share a quick smile. "Have a nice night at Gabriella's."

Olivia winks. "Will do," she gestures towards the empty seat. "Now sit, mija. Brittany doesn't want to be eating cold fajitas."

Santana grins and then watches as her mom smooths her dress down, before walking out the archway of the kitchen with a proud smile – flicking the overhead light off before she turns the corner. Something warms in Santana and it's like her heart is just taking note of how important this night, and this moment is.

All of those times she's been a predatory sex shark towards Brittany can now be made up for, with this dinner and this night. All of those times her mother's asked her if she has a girlfriend and what not, and she's merely replied with a "_Fuck, no. I don't do feelings" _can be now erased and replaced with the memory that she brought this girl home. This beautiful, magnificent human being that could quite easily be mistaken for an angel.

_Fuck. _This night really _is _important.

Wordlessly, she takes a seat and grabs the edge of the chair to scoot forward until their knees brush underneath the table. They're basically sitting next to each other, except their on different sides, but as they lay their arms on the table their elbows bump and fingers brush. A small chuckle bubbles from Brittany's lips and Santana almost faints as the sound rings through her ears. Seriously, that girl has like the most adorable giggle _ever._

And that's including the laughing baby on YouTube.

Santana smiles at Brittany, then picks up the packet of tortillas laying on the centre of the table and offers one out. The blonde takes, slips it onto her plate and Santana feels eyes watching her every movement as she pushes the contents of the fajita towards the girl and it just makes her that little more nervous. Because, to be completely honest, she doesn't really know how this whole date thing works. She's never really done _this. _The whole candles, shy glances and bumping limbs that make both of them blush _hard. _So she doesn't really know what to do.

Sensing the grin that's about to spread over Brittany's face, Santana drops her head into her hands and shakes her head. She can't help but laugh, because she knows just how ridiculous she looks, pushing all the ingredients to a damn fajita towards Brittany. But that's what happens in dates, right? It's all about 'ladies first' – not that she's _not _a lady, it's just that she's the one that asked Brittany on the date so she guesses she's the one that's supposed to be at Brittany's beck and call.

_Shit, _she really doesn't fucking know how this works.

"This is so embarrassing," she muffles into her palms. Fingers wrap around her wrist and tug until she looks up through thick lashes to see Brittany stare at her with bright blue eyes. They're so distracting, she almost doesn't notice that the blonde is speaking.

"You've never done this before, have you?" Brittany says. The words coming out more like a statement than a question.

Santana sucks in her lips and shakes her head slowly. She feels the blood rush from the bottom half of her body straight to her head and squeezes her eyes shut. Suddenly she's very thankful her mother turned off the overhead light otherwise this would be like, a million times more humiliating.

"No," she admits in a whisper. "I'm sorry, we haven't even eaten and I've already fucked it u-"

"You haven't," Brittany cuts in, her voice serious and sharp. Almost like she's scalding Santana for even _thinking_ that. "I'm already having the best time."

Dropping her hand to the table, and taking Brittany's with her, she taps her foot against the linoleum floor and bits her lip, nervously. "You are?"

"I really am," the blonde offers an honest smile. "But I'm really hungry, so can we eat?"

Santana chuckles and squeezes Brittany's hand in a silent 'yes'. She reaches for the serving spoon, scoops some of the chicken and peppers and holds it over the other girl's plate before looking into blue eyes. "May I?"

Brittany nods, smiles and as Santana leans over to scatter the contents into the tortilla, the blonde leans forward and catches her lips in a kiss. The cutlery drops to the table top, landing with a clang, and she presses in harder, hand lifting to cup a creamy cheek to keep the kiss going. But before her fingers can touch the heavenly skin, Brittany pulls away and kisses her nose.

"There's time for that later," Brittany mutters, lowly, leaning back into the chair.

Santana swears she sees blue eyes darken but just clears her throat – pinching her thighs together to quell the arousal – and straightens up, ignoring the several fresh stains on the table from where she dropped the cutlery. Brittany begins to fold her fajita together, eyes flitting between Santana and the food, and Santana has a hard time trying to spoon the chicken and peppers into her own tortilla because, well, Brittany's kind of distracting.

"I'm not going anywhere, you know," Brittany informs her as she swallows her mouthful.

Santana pulls her brows together, fingers poking the chicken around until it's in a straight line in the centre of her tortilla. She's kind of OCD about this type of stuff. "I know," she mumbles, eyes flicking back and forth. "Why'd you say that?"

A giggle follows her words. "Because you can't keep your eyes off me."

"Bit up yourself," she replies playfully, scrunching her nose at Brittany. "And I know you're not," she lifts her tortilla to her mouth, groaning when two pieces of chicken topple out the top. "I'f c'tch few b'fore you l'ft," she mumbles through a spluttered mouthful, flooding with embarrassment when there's a sauce overload.

This is just ridiculous. Seriously. Usually she's like a boss at eating fajitas – never leaving any drips of sauce or mess on her plate. But now she's with Brittany she looks like a total idiot. Fajita falling apart and sauce dribbling out from the bottom. If she could face palm herself mentally, she'd be doing it right now.

"That's charming," Brittany leans over and swipes her thumb underneath Santana's bottom lip, wrinkling her nose at the same time. Just as she moves her hand back, Santana reaches over and grabs it with her right hand, threading their fingers together before resting it gently on the table top.

It's only when Brittany picks up her fajita with her free hand and begins to munch on it that she notices their hands It's kind of stupid, and silly, but she can't stop the large grin that spreads across her face when her mind registers that they can still eat whilst holding hands – as Santana's left handed, and Brittany's right-handed. She thinks Brittany sees her looking, but honestly she doesn't really care. Not with this fluttery feeling inside her stomach, a tingling warmth in her palm and a flipping heart that beats to the rhythm of Brittany's name.

Their hands never break as they eat.

* * *

Turns out, trying to serve fajitas one-handed is pretty difficult – even if technically they have one pair of hands put together - but they still somehow managed. After their third fajita each, both of them leaned back in their chairs and Santana patted her flat stomach – which she was convinced had bloated by about three times – and sighed out, completely full and sated. Brittany chuckled and then turned Santana's palm upside down, tracing her thumbs along the grooves and curves of a tanned hand whilst Santana focuses intently on not fainting or buckling and face-planting her dirty plate from the touch.

That would just have been way too embarrassing to recover from.

Santana just watches Brittany. Watches the flickering flame flash across blue eyes, watches the way there's a hint of a smile playing at her lips and how her fingers tickle delicately up and down her wrist and forearm like she's mapping out every inch of Santana's skin. Memorizing it. Her brows are pulled together, and there's something Santana thinks is concentration in her features, but she decides to stay quiet and wait it out. Unsure if she's reading Brittany right or not. So instead, she closes her eyes and lets the feeling of slender fingers ghost between the gaps of her own roam around her body, leaving sparks and tingles in their quake.

"Can I ask you something?" Brittany whispers, breaking the silence and stilling the movement on Santana's hand to look up through thick lashes.

Santana nods softly. "Anything."

"You said you've never done this before," Brittany begins, manipulating Santana's hand until she can thread their fingers together. "What did you mean?"

Santana keeps her eyes away from Brittany, knowing that if she does end up lying, the other girl will easily call her bluff. She looks around the kitchen, towards the sink, the small window above it, the few cupboards her mother forgot to shut and finally the marble counter top (that her mother insisted the house had as it was 'rather modernistic', as she recalls) as if the answers are going lie in each object. But nothing springs to mind. Nothing that can replace her honest answer. So she just sticks with that.

"You're the first girl I've ever brought home," she breathes, averting her gaze again when Brittany's eyes seem too much.

"What?"

She lifts the other hand to grab at their already connected one and cups above Brittany's fingers. She runs her thumb pad up the length of the girl's index finger and back down again, trying to steady her rapid heart beat and shaking breaths.

"I've never brought a girl home before," she repeats, glancing up to gage Brittany's reaction because she knows if the blonde didn't hear her the first time, she definitely would've now. Blue eyes stare straight into her, a ghost of a smile tugging at the very corner of pink lips and Santana feels a little relieved. Relieved enough to continue, even though it's unnecessary.

"Not a girlfriend, or a date, or even a friend," she shrugs, feeling the necessity of it. "Not even Quinn and Sugar have ever been here. They've only seen the outside of my house, so this is kind of a really big fucking deal," she begins to chuckle nervously as the last few words leave her mouth and returns her gaze to their hands. "That's why I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing here, or why I felt the need to baby you when I served you the fajita mix."

She can feel Brittany's eyes on her, and usually where she likes that, right now, she doesn't. It feels like she's being studied, and especially because Brittany's not responding, it multiplies the anxiety pulsing through her veins and doubles her heart beat. She glances up, just in time to see Brittany suck in her lips and pull her eyebrows together as if she's processing the pros and cons of what was just announced.

Now Santana really wants to smack herself in the face for being such a dipshit. She shouldn't have told Brittany that. Honestly, she wouldn't even blame the blonde if she ran straight out the house and ignored Santana for the rest of eternity. That may be an exaggeration, but whatever, she's being vulnerable so she feels it's okay to go a little over the top.

Santana's about two seconds away from tearing her hands away from the fingers, which she can feel slacking against her own, when Brittany finally makes a move. The blonde reaches out with her free hand, fingers curling around the bend of Santana's elbow and pulls until their legs slip against each other and chests press together tightly. The beginning of the word 'what' is about to tumble from her lips when soft ones brush against her own, a nose nudges against hers and then the lips return for a harder kiss.

They kiss deeply, tongues instantly pushing past lips and delving into warm, velvety mouths, tracing the contours and dips of each other. A moan threatens to vibrate out of Santana's throat, but she finally registers in her mind that Brittany's kissing her and manages to kiss back, stroking her tongue over Brittany's and sucking lightly.

She feels herself almost crying with the mix of passion and humiliation from the past few minutes, because it's such a drastic change. One second she can feel her cheeks burning, all the blood rushing up her neck and forcefully pulsing through her veins. The next she's practically melting into Brittany, kissing her with such ease and simplicity that she does wonder how many times they've done this, because it's so familiar and comfortable that she does have to second guess herself on whether they've been dating for months and months.

Brittany's hands move up to her face, one cradling the hinge of her jaw whilst the other curls around the back of her neck and she feels something burst inside of her, like a fucking rainbow. Or a firework. Or some type of magical shit that later she'll wonder if it's real or not. But before she has the time to figure out which magnificent spectacle kissing Brittany is like, Brittany pulls away and nuzzles their noses together, breathing heavily. The grip on her face loosens a bit, and she realizes that her hands had slid around Brittany's waist and pulled so now they're basically on top of each other – thighs crossing and bodies impossibly close.

When she's managed to regulate her breathing, Santana blinks once, twice, three times, and then licks her lips. Regretting the movement immediately as know she wants to kiss Brittany again, but she also wants to ask the girl something. _Oh, _the dilemmas of her life.

She settles for the question. They still have an entire evening to kiss and right now she's pretty curious. "What was that for?"

Brittany smiles, softly. "I'm the first girl you've ever brought home."

"So?"

It's a ridiculous question, because even she's been telling herself how much of a deal it is. She said it even a fucking minute ago. _Whatever, _she thinks. She knows how distracting and mind-blowing Brittany's kisses are, so it's not an unlikely idea that the whole 'big deal' thought popped out her mind.

"That's a really big thing," Brittany mutters a second before kissing Santana again. This time close mouthed and so, _so _soft that Santana's eyes flutter shut and her body deflates.

"_Mhmm..." _Santana hums into Brittany's mouth, bringing her hands up to pull the hands on her face away and clutch them within her own. They kiss for a while. No more than just brushing of lips and light teasing with small flicks of the tongue, because there's no need to. It's not leading to anything, and they're just doing it because they can.

Brittany pulls away, only enough to stare into each other's eyes but keeping the bows of each other's lips touching. "Sofa?"

"Sure."

Santana leans in and kisses her one more time before standing and offering out a hand. The blonde smiles, takes said hand and Santana feels warmth spread throughout her entire being. She still doesn't quite know what this feeling is, and in all honesty, she doesn't really want to question or know it. She's content with how she and Brittany are at the moment, and seeing as they aren't labelled, she's not freaking out and becoming an emotional nut case. Which would inevitably happen if she were to whack out the label maker.

Gripping Brittany's hand, Santana leads them into the living room and sits down. The TV's already on, the low light of it glowing around the darkness of the room and the DVD logo zigging and zagging from side to side. Santana has to stifle a laugh, knowing her mom did this and almost rolls her eyes at the lame attempt to make this a 'romantic night in'. But her mom did this with good intentions. Even if it is like seriously cheesy and looks like something from a 90's chick flick.

By the time her body has caught up with her thoughts, she realizes she's being tugged down onto the sofa and Brittany's pressing into her side, resting her head on her shoulder. Santana throws an arm around the other girl's shoulder and takes advantage of her mother's absence by propping her feet up onto the coffee table.

"What are we watching?" Brittany asks, her breath blanketing the skin of a tanned neck.

Santana tenses her muscles to stop herself from shuddering. "Um," she picks up the remote with her free hand and clicks the screen, reading the title on the DVD menu. "Oh my God," she breathes out through a chuckle, shaking her head.

As if this night weren't already corny enough, now they're about to sit through _The-fucking-Notebook._ The corniest of all the movies. The movie that teenagers only watch to bring down the walls and bring up the emotional/vulnerable sides of people. Therefore leading to comforting... and cuddles... and kisses on the cheek... and then a little lower... and _yeah, _cut the shit. The Notebook basically leads to really hot make out sessions. Fact.

Although she does kind of wonder if her mother's thought processes were the same... If they were, then that shit is just creepy.

"I've never seen this," the blonde mutters lowly as the DVD title menu fades to black.

Santana's brows shoot up and she tilts her chin down enough to look at Brittany. "You haven't?"

"Nope," Brittany pulls her lips down in a small upside down smile and shrugs. "Why? Is that weird?" She asks, like she's suddenly conscious.

Chuckling, Santana pulls them deeper into the couch until the small of her back is pressed into the cushions and they're sort of lying down. The beginning of _The Notebook _begins to play... The sweet sound of slow piano flowing through the room and the orange glow of a man, alone, rowing down a bayou with swans gliding above him. It sounds quite serene and shit, but to be honest, Santana always wondered what this actually had to do with the film. The first time she watched it she almost switched the damn thing off.

"Not weird," she replies after a long while. "Not weird at all."

"Okay, good," Brittany chirps and snuggles closer, boldly reaching out and grabbing Santana's hand. "Now shut up, I wanna watch the movie."

Santana grins but doesn't say anything.

* * *

"That w-was s-so emo-emotion-al," Brittany gets out through a gasp and sucks in three consecutive breaths. She turns to Santana with glossy eyes and wipes furiously at them, but the streams are just continious. "Why w-would you make m-me watch t-that?"

Santana chuckles, her face amused as she helps by pulling down her sleeve and wiping at Brittany's face when the blonde gives up. "You said you wanted to," she tries. "I didn't think you'd have this reaction."

"How are y-you not crying?" Brittany's tears begin to die down and her words become clearer. "Seriously, I think I'll still c-cry at the 50th time watching t-hat," she says as she grabs at Santana's wrist and tugs it away from her face, but keeps it in her lap.

Santana shrugs and as she thinks of an answer. But then it's all there in front of her. Literally.

She looks up at Brittany. Looks at how soft blue eyes shine at her delicately, so blindingly mesmerizing that Santana's thoughts almost stop right there as she loses herself in gleaming ocean like orbs. She doesn't though, just continues to look at Brittany. At the way the golden hair tumbling in loose curls around Brittany's shoulders, with the added help of the TV glow, makes her seem like a freaking angel come down to this god for saken Earth and how Brittany - just in general, but in some many other ways too - is such an amazing person that it almost hurts Santana to be around her. Hurts because Santana knows, no matter how hard she tries, she'll never be good enough for Brittany. She'll never be the good person that Brittany wants and deserves.

Even if she tried to convince herself that weren't true, the evidence lies in their relationship. Letting out a heavy sigh, she lets her head hang and roll. She kind of fucking hates herself.

"San?" Brittany's hand comes up to her cheek, cupping it and lifting until they're staring at each other. "What's wrong?"

Santana feels her lower lip quiver and pulls her brows together. She feels a lump lodge in the midst of her throat and tries to swallow, but it's too thick and pushes moisture up to the back of her eyes. Her mouth opens a little. Closing and then opening three or four times as if she's trying to figure out how to speak. Blue eyes roam around her face, fair eyebrows tugging together with concern as Brittany tries to shuffle impossibly close.

She knows it's supposed to be making her feel better, but it doesn't.

"San..." Brittany whispers, nuzzling her nose into a tanned cheek as her arms wrap around Santana's midsection.

Santana sucks in her lips, unwilling her words to explain and just squeezes Brittany tighter as her arms snake around the blonde's body. The one thing she knows after spending time with Brittany is that if she isn't to reply, Brittany doesn't push her. Sure, they may be close, but there's still boundaries and Santana really respects Brittany for that. She thinks that might be why they connected so quickly. Why as soon as they met, there was an instant spark. Brittany's not like anyone else she's ever met before. She's special. Individual.

One of a kind.

"Thank you," she whispers into blonde hair, pressing her lips down to emphasize her words.

Brittany pulls back, pushing one elbow into the back of the sofa and looming over her. "For what?" She asks, softly, lifting one hand to brush back a lock of dark hair.

Santana allows her hand to fall to Brittany's hip, gripping whilst the other comes up to cup a creamy cheek, thumb pad running over the light freckles there. "For being you," she breathes out but Brittany narrows her eyes, unsure. "Just for being you, and for being you all along."

"Who else would I be?" Brittany chuckles, wrinkling her nose up and scrunching it at Santana. "And if we're saying thank you for people being themselves, I should probably be thanking you," she presses a kiss to the tip of a tanned nose. "So thank you for being you, Santana," she smiles. "And not for being anyone else."

The words sink to her very core, chilling around her heart and scratching at the back of her mind. Feeling her face falter against the rush of emotions, Santana gulps, licks her lips and averts her gaze around the room. "Uh, yeah," she pushes up, knocking Brittany back in the process and stands abruptly.

Once she's up, she doesn't really know why she did that. Especially when Brittany gazes up at her with hurt eyes and a confused expression. She almost slaps herself in the forehead right then, but decides to run her fingers through her hair instead so steady herself. It was like those words were too much for her to handle. Too intense and so wrong that she couldn't actually hear them without having this reaction.

"Do you want, uh," she clears her throat and keeps her eyes away from Brittany. "Do you want me to take you home now?"

Fingers wrap around her wrist and tugs until she's standing in front of Brittany and the blonde has to tilt her head right back to stare up at her. "Why are you doing that?"

"Why am I doing what?"

"Freaking out on me," Brittany replies like she has a degree in Santana 101. "You don't need to, San. I know you, and I like who I know."

Santana clenches her teeth together, feeling the skin tighten around her jaw and stares at Brittany. _"You don't know me", _she wants to say, because Brittany doesn't. She knows that Brittany doesn't _really _know her. Not _all _of her. Not the part that made a fucking bet with Quinn. There's no way in hell that Brittany would like that part of her.

There's no way in hell Brittany would like _her _if she knew.

"It's getting late," Santana diverts from the tense conversation and pulls her arm from Brittany's grip. Hating herself a little more when the contact breaks. "I'll take you home."

"Santana."

"I don't know where your jacket is," she says, ignoring Brittany. "It might be in the kitchen."

"Santana."

"Maybe in the hallway," she heads towards said place, her feet moving a lot quicker than her mind. "Or the kitchen."

"Santana, you already said that."

Santana stops, shocked by the closeness of Brittany's voice and pushes the heels of her palms into her eyes. Putting a little more force behind them, until she can feel the dull ache protesting against the muscles, she turns around and feels Brittany's presence warm the air around her as the blonde steps closer. She takes in deep, steady breaths to try and calm her trembling limbs and finally glances up at Brittany's who's staring at her with sheer concern.

Brittany does nothing but stare. Stare and study Santana until she's sure she could transform into a text book at any second. She drops both hands beside her, feeling a cool wave of calm wash over her body as blue eyes linger over her face. Down the bridge of her nose, over the tip and down to the bow of her top lip. It gets too much, and Santana drops her eyes, fluttering them shut as blue eyes continue to roam over her face. She can't have Brittany look at her like that. Like she's something special. Something good. And she sure as hell isn't. She's nowhere near it.

The touch is soft, but she feels it. Gentle and brief under her bottom lip. Her eyes crack open, watching as Brittany take a hesitant step closer, her breathing loudening as it nears her. Brittany's ghosting one fingertip around the ledge of her jaw, up to the hinge and over her temple. She feels the spark and allows her eyes to close once more, marvelling in how Brittany has an effect on her even though they aren't even touching.

About a second later, she feels warm lips brush against her own, ever so soft and sweet, and she tips forward when Brittany pulls away too soon. Her hands surge forward and latch onto Brittany's hips, trying to find some grounding because her own body isn't doing a good enough job and she rolls onto the balls of her foot to push up and bring their lips back together. Her mind hadn't even decided that she were to do that, but her body's always been two or three seconds ahead of her brain, so it doesn't come as that much of a surprise.

Soon enough, Brittany's fingers and tangled in her hair, and Santana's breathing hard and heavy into the other girl's mouth; familiarizing herself with Brittany's kisses once more. It's not like she'd forgotten them. It's just that every time she kisses Brittany, it's like that first kiss with your soul mate. The one where you just _know. _Know that those are the lips you're supposed to be kissing. That those are the gaps in between your soul mates fingers where yours are just _supposed _to fit. And then everything is so much more beautiful than it was, and you realize just how grey and dull your life was before the kiss. Before meeting _that _person. It's just where you know that _that _is where you belong.

_That's _what it's like every single time she kisses Brittany. It's just like... everything makes sense.

They break to breathe and Santana whispers, "Thank you," even though she isn't entirely sure what she's thanking Brittany for.

But Brittany gets it. Seems she always does. "No problem," Brittany replies against Santana's lips, a second before kissing her again. "But," she pauses with a kiss, hands coming up to cup both of Santana's cheeks. "Can I stay over?"

They kiss again. Longer this time. A little more tongue, flicking playfully at lips until Santana gives in and allows Brittany to brush hers swiftly but softly against her own. A small groan passes through to Brittany's mouth, and Santana feels her smile against her lips when they shift backwards. This time, _both _trying to find grounding.

It's only when Brittany's back hits the wall, and Santana presses her body up against the other that she remembers what was asked.

"You wanna stay over?" She leans forward and bumps their noses together.

It's been so long since they touched the TV remote that the screen has faded to black, and so now they're just surrounding in the darkness of the living room. It doesn't seem to matter though. Especially not when Brittany's arms hook around her neck, pulling them together as their lips meet again, a little harder than before. She can feel Brittany smirk against her mouth and the heat radiates throughout her whole body, down to the tips of her toes and back up to the hairs on the nape of her neck. Up until now, she never even knew a kiss could do that. But Brittany seems to be showing her a hell of a lot of new things, lately.

This isn't any different.

"Stay over," Santana gasps, almost like a command, when their lips break. "You can, I mean," she corrects herself and smiles, linking her hands at Brittany's lower back as she pushes them between the wall and her body. "Stay over."

Brittany smiles, then replaces an answer with her lips. She kisses at Santana's lower lip, sucking it gently between the two of hers and Santana feels her knees weaken as a tongue sweeps along the width of it at a glacial pace. Something flutters in the pit of her stomach, and all previous feelings of panic, regret and fear is replaced with this thing... This emotion that makes her heart beat faster and faster and warmth pool in her heart.

She's almost afraid to ask herself what it is.

"Okay," Brittany tears her lips away and mutters it against Santana's mouth. "Seeing as you're so insistent," she teases, shooting Santana a wink before one hand loosens and glides down a tanned arm.

Santana releases one of her hands and pushes it into the wall beside Brittany, supporting her weight as she feels fingertips glide down her arm. Her eyes flutter shut once more, and the sound of both their breathing, ragged and heavy, is the only thing identifiable in the room. She feels her heart leap in her chest when the fingers tickle down her own, and lifts her head, removing her hand from the wall to grip gently at Brittany's chin and tilt down a little until she can barely brush her lips across another pair of lips.

Except just as she's about to deepen the kiss, she feels the fingertips leave her hand and scoot to the right, brushing dangerously close to the crotch of her jeans. Arousal shoots through her body, and she clenches her eyes shut when she feels the need to pinch her thighs together. But instead, her body tenses, lips stilling and she might as well have jerked back from the reaction. Instead, she snaps her hand down, curling her fingers around Brittany's wrist and pulls it away gently, offering an apologetic smile when she moves her head back enough to stare into blue eyes.

It's only then she notices the confused expression on Brittany's face. Clear, even in the darkness.

"I thought I was..." Brittany lets the words trail off, her eyes wandering off into the area behind Santana before returning. Accompanied by words. "_Staying over."_

Santana narrows her eyes, and then something clicks in her mind. "_Oh!" _She says, eyes widening and mouth dropping open into a small 'o'. "No, no," she says, shaking her head. Brittany's face contorts slightly with hurt and Santana realizes how offensive that might have been.

"No, Britt," she leans forward and tilts their forehead together. Her feet move closer and hands fall back down to the other girl's hips.

"I _want _to," she reassures, so close to Brittany's face that all she sees is blue. "I do," her mind flashes with thousands of inappropriate images. She shakes them off before her body gets too carried away. "But I do that all the time."

Brittany's eyebrows shoot up and Santana sees the movement before it happens. So she presses her chest against Brittany's and basically pins the girl there, wishing she was better social interactions since apparently she's shit at them.

"No," she squeezes her eyes shut. _"Fuck. _I'm screwing this up," she mutters, feeling heat crawl across her cheeks and prick at the skin. Seriously, this is fucking ridiculous. How can she be screwing this up already? She hasn't even got through her damn sentence yet and Brittany's already trying to pull away. _Fuck!_

"Calm down," Brittany says through a grin, stroking through Santana's hair. "Take a breath, and say what you mean."

Santana does exactly what's suggested. She shuts her eyes, sucks in her lips and breathes in deeply through her nose. Feeling oxygen sink into her lungs and expand her chest. It doesn't help that it presses further into Brittany, sending heat throughout her body, but she tries to block it out because aroused is something she seriously need _not _to be right now. Not when they're in a house alone. All night long.

Is it all night, though? She can't remember. Her mind is too blurred at the moment to even begin to remember if her mom said she'd be back or not. If someone asked her her name right now, she'd probably respond with a mixture of random letters, along the lines of _"snuyahs" _or something to a similar calibre.

"I mean," she breathes out through her mouth, and finally opens her eyes to stare into blue ones. "I mean this isn't about sex to me, Britt."

Brittany's eyes narrow, so Santana continues.

"I sleep with girls, because they don't mean anything to me. I know that sounds weird, and doesn't make any sense at all, but trust me, I sleep with girls to fill the space missing in my life, because I don't do feelings."

She feels her heart clench and nibbles on her bottom lip, trying to figure out how Brittany's taking this. She's never been any good with words and wouldn't be shocked if Brittany were to push her away and storm out. That'd probably be the _best _reaction Brittany could have. (The other reactions include slapping, shouting and harsh words.)

"I want to," she shifts her weight onto the other leg and clenches her eyes shut. Her hands squeeze lightly on Brittany's hips and she looks between them, inwardly noting how perfectly their bodies fit together. Every breath that Brittany takes in, Santana breathes out and their chests mould together. They're in sync and they don't even know it.

"I do," she repeats. "Honestly. But," she licks her quickly drying lips and almost tastes the nerves on them. "This is real, and I want to show you how much you mean to me."

"By _not _sleeping with me?" Brittany asks, a hint of a smile on her lips.

Santana rolls her eyes, realizing how ridiculous that sentiment sounds. "Yeah," she agrees, joining in with Brittany when she begins chuckling lightly. "Basically."

"You're kind of silly," Brittany whispers, nuzzling her nose into Santana's cheeks. Her lips ghosting dangerously close over Santana's as her arms make their way back around a tanned neck and pull tightly until they're kissing again. It's slow, and sweet, and so close that Santana feels their faces mush together and noses squash against cheeks. Santana hums into the kiss as a response, happy just to kiss Brittany. She could totally do this forever. Just revel in the feeling of her lips tenderly brushing against Brittany's, and tongues mapping out the insides of each other's mouths. Like they've known each other for more than a few measly weeks.

It makes her insides melt into a pathetic puddle.

"Let's go to bed," Brittany whispers when they break, ducking to pepper kisses onto Santana's lips. Once. Twice. Three and then four times until Santana begins to giggle and scrunches up her nose, swatting the blonde away. She threads her fingers through Brittany's and tugs them towards the stairs, leading the way to her room, throwing a glance over her shoulder the entire way to ensure Brittany's behind her.

It's seriously nerve-wracking when she stops outside her bedroom door and stares at it. Sort of similar to when she was standing outside the houses front door. But intensified by about five or six times. Letting Brittany into her house was a huge deal because it was letting Brittany into one more of the walls around her heart. But allowing Brittany into her bedroom? That's breaking down everything until the only thing left is her pulsing heart, ready for love and pain after all these years of nothing.

For a moment, she does nothing but stare. Stare at the wooden panels of the door and how there's a little chip in the right hand panel from where the door got stuck and she hammered her fist against it a few weeks back. Right before her dad had the soft-close doors installed, all she had were shitty ones that got stuck _constantly – hence_ the dent in the door.

Sucking in a deep breath, she presses her free hand to the door and it swings open slowly. She leads them inside and stops when they're in the centre of the room, by her bed. Judging by the silence, it's clear that Brittany's taking in her surroundings and she does a quick scan of the room to make sure it didn't look like a bomb went off inside her closet. It doesn't, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

Dropping her hand, Brittany brushes past Santana and walks further into the room, heading towards the dresser and eyeing the few photos on top in frames. One of Quinn, Sugar and Santana, one of Santana and Fernando and the other of the entire Lopez family cuddled together a few years back.

Brittany smiles softly and crosses her arms, and Santana waits nervously in her position, watching Brittany as she examines the room. She knows that's probably an irrational thought, because the point of an examination is to get a result, which is either good or bad, and Brittany's not like that. Or she's too polite to say if she doesn't like Santana's room. Not that she would, because there's nothing really wrong with it. Although some people don't need a reason not to like something.

_Damn, _even her thoughts are nervously rambling.

"So," she starts, trying to level her tone as it wavers a little. "This is my room."

Brittany turns her head to peer over her own shoulder, grinning. "It's nice," she replies before returning to her scan of the books on the bookshelf. She runs her fingertips along the spines, tapping every single one like she's memorizing the titles until she finally lands on one particular one.

"You've read _The Perks of Being A Wallflower?_" Brittany asks with shock in her tone.

"I have," Santana manages to kick her body into gear and moves towards Brittany, crossing her own arms in the process. She stops about half a foot away from the blonde and continues to watch. Brittany smiles at her like she just thought of something amusing, but then moves away from her and towards the bed, pausing to peer out the window beside the side table.

Brittany rocks back onto the heels of her feet and then sits down, perching on the edge of the bed and smoothing her palms over the silky black sheets covering the mattress. It ripples with her movement, and Santana is almost mesmerized by the wonderful contrast of Brittany's perfect pale fingers glide over the small waves until they die down, until Brittany's voice pulls her back into the room.

"Can I borrow something to sleep in?"

Santana blinks and feels her heart skip a beat at the image of Brittany wearing her clothes. "Sure," she manages, half-stumbling towards her dresser and opening the top drawer. She grabs one of her dad's old t-shirts and a pair of plaid pyjama pants and heads back towards the bed. Brittany's grinning at her when she gets there, and as soon as she hands over the clothing, slender fingers linger a little longer than necessary of her own and sending a rippling shudder throughout her body. Similar to how the sheets did a minute ago.

"Thank you," Brittany whispers, placing the clothes in her lap. "Is there somewhere to change?"

"Oh, um," Santana gulps and nods furiously. She wants to reach inside of herself and rip out the embarrassed, nervous child that's making her look like a complete idiot, because _seriously? _She's so fucking scared that she's letting someone in this far. Even if said person is staring at her with a face that promises _I'll never hurt you. _In some ways, she thinks that's what makes it worse. "The bathroom."

She points towards the door on the far side of her room. Thankful that her mother decided to give her a room with an en-suite and Brittany flashes a smile before heading towards the door and disappearing behind it when it shuts. Santana breathes out a long exhale she didn't know she was holding and pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, muttering _"be cool" _over and over again.

It's only when she hears the tap run that she realises that she herself has to get ready for bed and begins to panic. Pretty stupid, considering Brittany's probably not even changed yet, but it still makes her move quickly around the room. She grabs the small chocolate toy bear – named Bobby - on the vanity table's chair and opens her closet, chucking it inside. Fernando could be to blame for that one, if Brittany had seen it, but it's getting pretty hard to lie to Brittany – bet aside – and so she's probably just come out with the entire tale of how she's had that damn toy for years because she stole it off her 2 year old cousin.

In all fairness, though, she was 9 at the time. A little old, maybe. But still childish enough to blame the whole thing on that.

Slipping out of her clothes, she swiftly tugs a pair of blue and white striped pyjama pants (because she thinks wearing her favourite purple boxers would be a little inappropriate for a first-time (date-wise) sleepover, especially if she were to wake up with morning wood) up her legs and pulls on a white tank top - a tight one - over her head until it settles properly over her torso. She practically dives towards the mirror, grabbing a hair tie off the vanity table and yanking her hair into a low, side ponytail. Because the high ones she always has to wear to school – due to Sue's orders – give her a headache sometimes. Plus, she likes her hair better, this way. Makes her eyes look prettier.

Attempting to calm her nerves, she casually sits on the bottom of the bed, tucking both hands between clenched knees to stop them from jigging about. Her eyes roam around the room, making last minute checks for anything embarrassing (it would be _so _bad if Brittany found one of her _adult _magazines) and waits for the sound of the bathroom door clicking, nervously.

It only takes a few minutes, but then the door swings open, and Brittany flicks off the bathroom light before making her way into the room once more. She throws the folded pile of clothes in her arms towards the chair – which Santana inwardly cheers herself for as she moved Bobby – and then walks to Santana, stopping in front of her to talk to her.

Except Santana doesn't really get to the listening part because she's kind of fixated at how fucking good Brittany looks in her clothes. Even if they are pyjamas. Which sparks something in her mind, and then she remembers lending Brittany her sweatshirt, that day that Brittany's car broke down on the side of the road.

"You look really good," she mumbles without meaning to. Her eyes widen and she almost slaps her hand over her mouth, but Brittany chuckles instead and she relaxes a little.

"Alright, Lopez, let's get you into bed before you take back everything you said before."

Whilst Brittany tugs her up from the bed, Santana frowns and tries to make sense of the blondes words. Once she gets it, her mouth drops open and she gasps a little. Was she really looking at Brittany _that _hungrily? That's _seriously _embarrassing.

"Shut up," Santana muffles when Brittany pushes her onto the bed and she instantly flops her face into the pillow. It comes out more like _"sfup pop" _but Brittany still giggles and climbs into bed next to her. She freezes, feeling her heart thump against her chest and then wonders how they got here. Did she actually _offer _her bed for Brittany to sleep in?

Not that she minds, because she was actually going to sleep on the floor.

"I was going to sleep on the floor," she says as she twists, back pressing into the mattress now. Her fingers absent-mindedly play with the silk sheets. "Give you some space..."

Brittany scrunches her nose up. "Don't be silly, it's way too cold for that."

Santana nods wordlessly and then settles back until her head sinks into the pillows. She folds her hands and rests them on top of her stomach, drumming her fingertips lightly whilst Brittany busies around the bed, moving the sheets and plugging her phone into Santana's charger like they've done this a million times before. Amazed is probably the word she'd use to explain how she feels watching Brittany. Because it's not exactly often that she finds someone that can do something so mundane – such as texting or checking their phone – and find it so damn interesting. Honestly, she could probably watch Brittany do just about anything and never get bored.

"You're staring," Brittany sing-songs as she places her phone on the side table and settles back into the bed. Santana grins, reaches over to switch off the side-lamp (she doesn't even remember turning it on) and then lies back once more.

"Was not," she grumbles back, ignoring how her heart speeds up when Brittany presses closer.

"So were," Brittany argues.

Santana lets out a sigh and turns her head, pressing her cheek into her pillow. "How'd you know?"

"Because I can feel it," Brittany replies, staring at the ceiling. Then mimicking Santana's movement until they're staring at each other. "I can feel when you're looking at me and I don't even know why," she smiles and inhales deeply, breathing out just as heavily. "But I don't have to be looking to know you're there or staring."

It takes about all of five seconds after that for Brittany to throw her arm over Santana's stomach, and for Santana to shift closer until they're pressed together and Brittany's head is tucked beneath her chin. But when she does, Santana feels her body tingle and warmth leak through her veins. It always seems to make her feel at ease when she's around Brittany. Like there's a wave of calm washing over her entire body and flushing out anything bad.

Basically, she feels on top of the world whenever Brittany's around or near. So she gets what Brittany means.

"Yeah, I get that too," she admits, ducking her chin to press a kiss to Brittany's hair. "All the time."

She should feel embarrassed by saying that out loud, but she doesn't. Not with the knowledge that Brittany won't judge her. Not really any point in feeling embarrassed by someone who won't _make _her feel like that. A stupidly large grin tugs at her lips when she thinks about the way Brittany makes her feel. All butterflies and smiles, and scrunching noses and mind-blowing kisses.

_God, _she loves that.

"Night, Santana," Brittany whispers, head lifting and lips brushing against Santana's pulse point.

But Santana brings up a hand to tilt Brittany's chin a little further until she can capture warm lips between her own. The kiss is lazy, and her thumb strokes along the underside of the blonde's jaw as she breathes out through her nose and runs her tongue along Brittany's bottom lip. She kisses Brittany slowly, dragging out every brush of lips and every gentle sweeps of tongues. She kisses Brittany for as long as her lungs will allow, and then smiles near to the end because with Brittany in her arms and Brittany kissing her lips... She knows this is all that really matters. That this is all the really wants.

Even if that means sacrificing everything else.

* * *

**Reviews, please?**

**(p.s. I changed the summary of the fic!)**


	13. Part Thirteen

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Thirteen]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **9.7k**  
****Author's Note:** Thank you to my beta, she's awesome as always.  
**A****uthor's Note 2: **I'm trying to get this story to move ahead a little quicker as I realized it's not really going anywhere at the moment, so hopefully the chapters will be a lot longer from now on. However, that does mean that it'll also be a longer wait! Sorry but that's how the cookie crumbles, hombres.  
**Author's Note 3: **I have a song for later in the chapter, it's on YouTube at: /watch?v=zYXjLbMZFmo

* * *

Santana's beginning to make a habit of walking past the Choir room whenever possible. Usually, she makes sure she's by herself, but it's come to her attention that she's caring less and less what people think about her and Brittany. Mostly because no-ones even dared to say anything, and it kind of shows that no-one really gives a rats ass about her and her romantic interests.

The old Santana would have probably hated that. But now, she's pretty glad that's how it is. Because relationships are about two people. That's why they're called _couples _because it's about the two people involved, not the whole fucking world.

Even though she doesn't even know whether they're a couple or not.

The hallways are pretty vacant when she heads towards her locker, so she makes sure to take a quite detour and bypass the Choir room – knowing this period is Glee club. It's a chance for her to see Brittany, because ever since she saw the girl on that first day dancing effortlessly in there, it's peaked her interest to see it once again. This time without the worry of being caught.

As expected, the low humming vibration of music plays down the corridor when Santana descends down it. She pulls her folder closer to her chest and grins, knowing that even if she doesn't see Brittany dancing, she's still going to _see _Brittany in Glee club, where the blonde is undoubtedly happy and not caring about anything negative in the world. That's apparently what Glee is about, opening up yourself to joy and whatnot.

_Wow, _she thinks. She probably _shouldn't _tell anyone she knows Glee's tagline.

When she gets to the Choir room, (where the door is mostly shut, luckily) she leans against the door frame and carefully peers in through the small glass pane.

The good thing about the Glee kids is that they get so damn into what they're doing that they barely acknowledge the outside world, even if said outside world is leering into what they're doing. Santana kind of admires the way that they don't really give a crap and continue to do what they love, despite all the slushy facials and abuse they receive.

"_It's hot up in here DJ, don't be scared to run this, run this back..."_

Santana's eyes widen as soon as she sees the scene unfolding in front of her. Because Brittany's there, in the centre of the room with several back up dancers (some of who she's pretty sure are in her calculus class) surrounding her, dressed in a waist highleather skirt (which is so short it barely leaves anything to the imagination) with suspenders connected to white, red and blue striped mid-thigh length socks. A thin red football shirt with the number 74 printed on the front, hanging slightly off her left shoulder is covering her torso and the above-the-knee black high-heeled boots on her feet match the cut off leather gloves she's wearing. Her hair's straight and down, being steadied by a red baseball cap, but the free golden locks hanging by her collarbone are whipping from side-to-side as she rolls her body and weaves her long legs in and out to the beat.

"_I'm repping for the girls who are taking over the world, have me raise a glass for the college grads."_

Mouth dropping open and heat prickling around the collar of her Cheerio's top and shooting down to her crotch, Santana can't help but just stare in complete awe. Stare as Brittany glides across the floor and swings her body in a way that seems almost inhuman. In comparison, all the back up dancers have nothing on the blonde. But even if they did, Santana's pretty sure she wouldn't even notice because all her attention is solely focused on the way Brittany moves and sways across the floor like she owns the fucking place.

"_This goes out to all the women getting it on your grind. To other men that respect what I do please accept my shine."_

The way Brittany moves is so fucking hypnotic that her Santana has a hard time fucking breathing. It's only when she gasps that she realizes that it's been at least twenty seconds since her lungs had a fresh gulp of oxygen. Sucking sharply, she pokes her tongue out to wet her drying lips, eyes still intently drawn to the blur of red and black prancing across the Choir room floor.

She's pretty sure she's never been this hot and bothered at school before.

"_Boy you know love it how we're smart enough to make these millions. Strong enough to bear the children. Then get back to business."_

Brittany dips, throwing one leg out to the side and sinking into a crouch that shows the curve of her inner thigh muscle. Her arms fold across her chest and then jerk out into an arc around her as her feet slink across the floor. And even though she never thought it could be, Brittany dancing is a _major _turn on. So much so that she finds herself pinching her thigh to rid the blood rushing down to her stiffening member, which is pressing against the ever so tight fabric of her spanks.

"_See, you better not play me, oh, come here baby. Hope you still like me, if you pay me..."_

Her fingernails bite into the wood of the door frame as she continues to watch, and as soon as Brittany throws her head back, exposing the long expanse of her glorious neck, Santana has to squeeze her eyes shut and snap her legs together to distract herself from the inappropriate thoughts of how it would feel to run her tongue up the defined muscles there.

"_My persuasion can build a nation..."_

Santana gulps thickly when Brittany twirls around, blue eyes finding and locking onto brown as she continues to dance with her movements directly aimed towards Santana. A half-grin and half-smirk crosses pink lips and finding it pretty hard not to throw open the door and pounce on Brittany, Santana practically clings to the door handle and her own thigh as if her life depends on it. Mr Schuester probably wouldn't take too kindly to her bursting in, nor would any of the students to seeing Santana hobble down the hallways with her hands pressing to her crotch because she has a raging hard on.

"_...Endless power our love can devour..."_

Brittany lifts one hand, and clamps down on her pointed finger with sharp white teeth. Her eyes narrow and features twist into a devilish smile as she rolls her hips and Santana swears to fucking God she could internally combust right now. She's already past the point of worrying that she's hard (because the pain of her tight spanks pushing against her stiff member, is already surging through her body) so when she shuffles forward and presses herself against the length of the door, so her nose is touching the glass and hot breath is creating a sphere that fades with every intake, it doesn't really matter all that much.

"_...You'll do anything for me..."_

The lyrics are seriously fucking appropriate right now, so much so that Santana actually finds herself fucking nodding at Brittany who grins in response, before twirling and resuming her moves to the rest of the Glee club, who seem completely oblivious to the few lines in which Brittany managed to turn Santana on to an almost door-humping level.

She stays frozen for the rest of the performance, breathing heavily and trying to think of fucking _anything _to quell the burning hot arousal pulsing through her veins.

Nothing ever comes to mind.

* * *

Mr Schuester begins to clap along with the rest of the Glee club when Brittany punches her fist into her other palm and stills as the music dies down. She watches the teacher rise from his seat and his mouth move, but due to the door being closed she can't hear anything.

(Apparently the only reason she could hear Brittany sing was because it was relatively loud.)

Once Mr Schuester reaches Brittany and pats her on the shoulder with an approved grin, Rachel Berry stands up in the corner, clapping her hands four times in concession before holding them to her chest, clasped. Santana watches the girl's mouth move so fast that even if she could lip read, she wouldn't be able to tell a damn thing the hobbit was saying. Seriously, that girl can _talk._

It moves pretty fast from there. One second Brittany's standing at the front, panting from her routine and twisting her body like she doesn't know how to receive the praise she's receiving, and the next Berry's standing in the centre of the room, all eyes on her. Santana glances around the room, craning her neck a little since the window pane is relatively small, and finds Brittany in the back corner, closest to the door. There's a grin on her face when blue eyes meet brown, and Santana almost blushes because she was just caught looking for her.

She finds herself mouthing _'you were awesome' _to the blonde, who blushes and ducks her head, twiddling her fingers in her lap. Santana chuckles lightly to herself, knowing that if anyone found her right now, there's no way she could get out of saying why she was here _and _laughing. There's already around five rules being broken from just standing in this close proximity of the Choir room. Add laughing and peering through the window to that and she's practically offered her popularity out with a white flag.

When Brittany stops blushing, she glances up through thick lashes and underneath the lip of her baseball cap and mouths '_thank you' _back. They stare at eachother for a long moment, drinking in the sight of seeing each other after this morning, where Santana awoke up warm lips pressing against hers, kissing her into consciousness until they were making out lazily until the shrill sound of her alarm broke them apart.

The memory sends a ripple of pleasure through her body and she finds herself grinning like an idiot. But before she can get embarrassed by physically shuddering, she watches Brittany covering her mouth with the back of her hand and giggling into it, adorably. Apparently Brittany just finds it cute.

There moment is broken when Rachel begins to belt out the lyrics to a song Santana thinks is by _The Pussycat Dolls_. The only reason she suspects this is because in 8th grade they were the craze and Santana may or may not have had a massive thing for the lead singer, despite claiming it was pretty lame to the rest of the school. Whatever, clearly if Rachel Berry is singing a song by them, they _are _lame. She's just glad she doesn't like them anymore.

(Nicole Scherzinger is still smoking hot, though.)

"_I don't need a man to make it happen, I get off being free..."_

Santana widens her eyes when she sees the usually tame brunette runs her hands through her hair and then stretch them above her like she's proud to be single. Over in the corner, Finn sinks further down into his seat, his face contorting with embarrassment as Rachel continues to sing.

(Word has it Berry and the Ogre broke up last week due to complications, but Santana pretends not to pay attention to gossip like that.)

"_...I don't make a man to make me feel good, I get off doing my thing..."_

The entire Glee club share the same expression that Santana's wearing when Rachel struts up to none other than Finn Hudson and sings straight into his face. Seriously, she's never liked Berry, and never plans too because honestly, she'd probably prefer to cut her arm off with a blunt knife... But she has to give it to the girl for this one. Clearly Finnocence was doing nothing... _pleasureable _and now that they're broken up, Rachel's getting her revenge. That's something Santana can respect; revenge is kind of her thing.

"_...I don't need a ring around my finger, to make me feel complete..."_

Rachel cocks her head to the side, her chocolate locks whipping with the movement and Santana watches all the girls pump their fists into the air and cheer like hooligans as the brunette inches closer and closer to Finn who has that gassy _I'm-shit-in-bed _look on his face. Santana won't ever admit it, but she's kind of enjoying this performance. Not just because the bumbling tree is basically having his ass handed to him, but because Rachel maybe, sort of, has an incredible voice. Even if she is singing a rather in-your-face song about being able to get herself off without having a guy there to air her.

"_...So let me break it down, I can get off when you ain't around, oh!"_

Her mouth drops open and she almost wants to run inside the room when Rachel emphasizes the lyrics by poking Finn in the chest with her index and middle finger, before dragging them away slowly and throwing in a wink. She's not entirely sure that Berry knows _exactly _what those two fingers mean, exactly. But if the girl does, then Santana might actually have to walk away now before she finds herself thinking that maybe she and bait girl could actually get along.

However, seems she isn't the only one to see the gesture because Mr Schuester practically jerks out of his seat and towards the ex-couple, waving towards the band in the corner to stop playing the background music. Mr Schuester ushers Rachel away and stares at Finn with that half apologetic and half look on his face, before tapping the oaf on the shoulder and sending him into the side office. Santana sucks in her lips to muffle the giggle threatening to escape from them and looks to Brittany who's removed her baseball cap and is holding it over her face – clearly to hide how hard she's laughing at what just happened.

Santana thinks how great it'd feel to be able to sit next to Brittany and laugh with her. But then remembers the whole popularity and reputation thing and her heart sinks because she knows that's never going to happen; not whilst she still pretends to not give a crap what everybody thinks when really, she does. Big time.

Life's a bitch.

* * *

Around a minute after Mr Schuester and Finn step out from the office – Finn looking down at the floor and Rachel sitting back in her seat, smirking because that gay kid (Kurt, she reminds herself) and the fish-lipped blonde jock (Sam, maybe?) are _still _laughing at the previous number – that black chick, Mercedes, Santana remembers, rises from her seat and heads down to the front. A man with shaggy hair and round glasses steps out from nowhere when Mercedes waves her hand around and slides into the piano seat, running his fingers over the keys.

Finn takes a seat in front of Brittany and ducks his head, and Brittany crosses one never-ending leg over the other, revealing a lot more thigh that appropriate and making Santana's mouth run temporarily dry. The quiet sound of piano begins, and it takes about twenty seconds for her to switch her mind from watching Brittany to paying attention to what Mercedes doing at the front to realize that a violinist has now appeared-

(Seriously, these people just keep turning up out of nowhere.)

-And is standing next to the pianist, whose hands are now poised over the piano keys, ready for action. Mr Schuester heads in from the left and takes a seat, and Santana assumes he turned down the lights for dramatic effect because now all eyes are on that blonde kid, Sam. Including Mercedes', who's now sitting on a stool in the centre of the room, clasping her hands together between her knees and staring straight at the boy whose brows are pulled together in what Santana thinks might be hurt.

She doesn't know what's going on, but there's something tugging in her heart that makes her think whatever is, isn't going to be good.

"_If I... should stay... I would only... be in... your way..."_

Santana shuffles from her place, switching sides to lean on her left shoulder as she watches because her right one's been dead for about five minutes. Gliding her palm up her left arm, she tries to rub the life back into it and begins to realize how fucking talented the Glee club really is. Not that they wouldn't be. But, it's just that because she's spent the majority of her high school life mocking these people and torturing them with well thought out insults and ordered slushie attacks, it's kind of difficult to pay attention to how much talent they actually possess.

Never once has she had Rachel fucking Berry or that wheelchair kid burst out into song with a face full of Cherry slushie, nor has she ever had that happen when she's delivered a rather incredible insult very well. So why would she know how amazing their voices are?

(She ignores the twinge in her chest that makes her feel like she's guilty

"_...So I'll go... but I know... I'll think of you... every step of... the way..."_

Her eyes roam around the room, narrowing as she tries to figure out what the hell's going on. She's never paid attention before, so the least she can do whilst listening to this black chick go all Houston on Trouty Mouth, is try to figure out what the hell is going on. It might give the song more meaning than it already has, and it'll impress Brittany later on when she goes around to the Pierce household because she gave a crap.

"_...And I... will always love you... I will always... love you... You my darling, you..."_

So, pausing her thoughts, she puts all her focus into figuring out what's happening. It's widely known that Whitney Houston's song are always emotional and _always _put across some sort of message, and whereas some of her songs are relatively happy and upbeat (such as _So Emotional _and _I Wanna Dance With Somebody_)this particular one is pretty damn heart breaking.

"_... Bitter sweet... memories... that is all... I'm taking... with me..."_

Mercedes slides her hands from her knees and brings them to her chest as she sucks in a deep breath, her chest inflating and eyes watering as she prepares herself from the chorus. Santana feels her heart clench in sadness and sighs, feeling her head tilt and shoulders deflate. She doesn't see the way blue eyes study her, and a small smile creeps upon pink lips as Brittany watches the way Santana finds herself _caring _about the kids of Glee club.

"_... So goodbye... please... don't cry... we both know I'm not what you... you need ..."_

She just stands there, not knowing that her face is completely betraying her bitch façade, and studies as Mercedes sings with all her heart towards Sam, who Santana's surprised to find has the obvious glint of unshed tears in his eyes. An urge to know what's going on surges through her, and when the realization that it's not because she's a gossip whore who likes to know everything about everyone hits her – she stumbles back. Because _shit, _she actually thinks she fucking _care _about these nerds!

What the_ fuck!_

Clearing her throat, and bringing her hand up to her face, she quickly wipes away the lone tear lingering at the edge of her eye and slides her eyes to Brittany. Brittany's sitting there with her balled fists pressed underneath her nose and onto her mouth, eyes glistening in the same way that the entire Glee club's are due to this performance.

(Apart from Finn, but that's because everyone knows how much of an insensitive ass he is.)

Her feet take her backwards, staggering because this is probably not what she should be doing in a free period where she needs to study for her exams. Just as she moves to turn away, blue eyes catch hers and she stills, offering an apologetic smile to Brittany who nods and then returns to watching Mercedes sing. Santana is starting to really fucking love how the blonde can understand her with a single glance; it's pretty damn convenient at times like these.

When she walks away, she wanders how fucking incredible the rest of the Glee club sound. After all, they did get through to the Nationals version of Show Choir competition last year, so they can't be _that _bad.

(She ignores the way a little part of her wants to join Glee club just to find out.)

* * *

"Santana, can you confirm if the rumours about you are true?"

Santana slams her locker shut, the metallic clang ringing through her ears as she turns towards the voice. Usually, the clang wouldn't be so evident, but there's barely anyone in the hallway apart from the most annoying Jew in the entire world – and that includes Rachel Berry – who's speaking _at _her and shoving a microphone at her face.

"_What?_" She spits through a snarl, because even if she's softening day by day (due to a certain blonde) there's _always _a little room for aggression is Jewfro's up in her grill.

He pulls the microphone to his mouth, "Can you confirm if the rumours are true?"

"What rumours?" She curls her fingers around the hem of her Cheerios top and clenches tightly, reminding herself that whilst grabbing the microphone and shoving it down his throat would be mildly satisfying, the curiosity of what rumours Jewfro is talking about will only grow with time. And there's no way in hell she's going to find something out about herself through that stupid school paper.

"The rumours that you and one Brittany Pierce are getting friendly?" He cocks a brow and thrusts the microphone back towards her.

Suddenly one of the AV nerds steps out of nowhere, clutching a camera and aiming it towards her to catch every reaction that crosses her face. Then, as if planned, the entire student body files out of their classes and into the hallway, mumbling and leaning into each other when they notice the sudden freeze in Santana's movement and how she's staring blankly down the hallway.

She's not quite panicking. Not yet, anyway. It's just that this kind of caught her off guard and usually she hears things about herself before being addressed in public, although she is incredibly glad that the rumours are purely about her and Brittany being friends.

Otherwise she definitely would be freaking out.

"There's rumours about that?"

It's the wrong thing to say, because without meaning to confirm it, she has. Panic sets in, but she plays it cool, knowing that undoubtedly with the ability to manipulate media and all that technical crap, Jacob can make her seem like she just admitted she was in love with Brittany.

Not that she is. That's ridiculous.

"Ah, so it's true then? You and Brittany are close?"

_Of course, _in that moment, Brittany would have to walk around the corner, grinning in the way that makes Santana want to tilt her head to the side and sigh and holding her books tight to her chest as she glides between the students and towards her locker.

_Of course, _she'd have to glance up when they're around five metres away from each other, seeking the brown eyes locked on her and then look down bashfully because she's realized that Santana's been gazing adoringly.

_Of course, _Jacob would have to turn, eyeing them up and then whispering something to the camera guy who switches the shot between the two – capturing how they glance and stare at each other, small shy smiles playing at their lips.

Why wouldn't that happen? That'd just be way too fucking convenient.

"None of your business, Yom Kippur," Santana hisses when she manages to tear her sight away from the smiling blonde, who's now fiddling with her locker combo blindly, her eyes still locked onto Santana's profile. "Butt out and go play on the highway."

Jacob practically ignores everything she just said and spins to address the camera. "So, McKinley, the rumours are true. Santana Lopez _is _friends with Brittany Pierce. But how far does that friendship go?" He turns around once more and speaks to her. "Santana, care to comment?"

"Not really," she rolls her eyes and turns back to her locker, opening it and sorting through the various objects inside. She _has_ to focus her attention on something that isn't two metres away, blonde, blue eyed and incredibly gorgeous. There's a damn camera that'll catch her if she does and the shit will hit the fucking fan then. So far, she's been doing a pretty good damn job of keeping her cool.

"And why not?"

Santana clenches her jaw, her fingers toying with the spine of her textbooks. "Because like I said before," she twists her neck and narrows her eyes towards him, "It's none of your damn business, Spielberg."

"Is that because the rumours that you and Brittany were seen standing together behind your car holding hands and cuddling are true?" Jacob fishes a piece of paper out his pocket and holds it between his fingers. His eyes squinting beneath the thick panes of his glasses as they flick across it. "And as our sources say 'seemed like you may finally have a leash around your neck despite the fact that the relationship will ruin your reputation and send you to the bottom of the social pile?'"

Her heart drops straight into her stomach and her hands freeze inside the locker. Playing it cool was easy before proof was provided; proof that she can't even deny because now she's reacted and clearly it's true. Something builds inside of her and it chills her to her very core, spreading through her nerves and infecting every inch of her with fear and panic. Heat crawls onto her face, reddening and pricking at her cheeks as her heart thumps loudly against her chest, feeling like it's about to burst straight out and blurt out all her secrets.

Eyes flickering to the left, she sees Brittany still too, her toned arms stretching and hovering in the air as her head turns slowly, eyes meeting eyes and locking.

All this time, she thought that no-one was paying attention to her and Brittany's... relationship. All this time, when she was tangling her fingers through slender ones and not giving a crap about how people were watching them... really, people were actually waiting until they'd disappeared to bicker and exchange opinions about it. She thought people didn't care or even give them a second thought. But they did. They still do.

How didn't she see it, before?

Santana can't respond. Even if she wanted to, she's pretty sure her mind couldn't even form a sentence. Nor could her mouth even speak it. Her heart's beating so loudly in her chest, and she can feel the heat continuing to rush to her face and she has no idea what she's supposed to respond. What she's supposed to do.

She gulps against a thickening throat, feeling each breath deepen and grow faster inside of her until her chest is heaving and she's panting into her locker. Her mind almost stops functioning when it goes into overdrive because there's no answer that will allow her to win. She's damned if she does, and she's damned if she doesn't. Whatever comes out her mouth in the next few minutes will either land her reputation on par with the AV nerds, or will destroy her chances with Brittany.

_Brittany, _she thinks.

The locker door slams shut and then she's staring into blue, her body wanting to move forward and bury her face into the crook of Brittany's neck so she doesn't have to answer this question. So she doesn't have to either screw herself or someone else over. So she doesn't have to hurt anyone.

She should probably be thinking of an answer, because right now she's just darting her eyes between Jewfro who's waiting expectantly, the pieces slowly clicking together in his mind to create his very own answer, and between Brittany whose eyes are suddenly flashing with a plea; a plea that Santana knows is one she so desperately wants to fulfil.

_'Tell him',_ '_please just say it' _and _'don't hurt me' _is written across Brittany's face, but there's so many outstanding factors. So many things that will happen to _both _of them if she doesn't lie, if she _doesn't _say nothing's going on.

She tries to convince herself that that's what's _really _going on, and that it's not the fact that she's a scared little girl, hiding inside a supposedly strong shell and trying her best (which actually turns out to be the worst) to protect herself and Brittany. Even though it's not really protecting Brittany. Because she knows as soon as she manages to break her face into a small, apologetic expression; anger, pain and disappointment makes its way into Brittany's eyes, turning them from a piercing cerulean to a hard azure.

It makes something crumble inside of her, and she forces herself to look away to reply, knowing that staring at Brittany will ruin any courage she has to say this.

"I've talked to her a few times," she croaks out, strengthening her voice because her body is unwilling to do so. "And we sit next to each other in Spanish because we have to." Her eyes briefly flit to Brittany who sighs and sucks in her lips, shaking her head at the disappointment she so obviously feels. "Other than that," Santana continues, feeling the heat move from her cheeks to her eyelids where it stays. "We have nothing else to do with each other."

Then she feels the intensity of her words weigh down on her. Making her feel like she wants to shove her head into a car door and slam it several times just so she can punish herself even the slightest bit. And when she turns her attention back to Jacob - her mind registering how Brittany's already walking away with her back hunched and head down - even his face says _'you're going to regret that.'_ Her eyes snap shut immediately and she spins back around to face her locker, hoping something snaps inside of her and gives her the strength to chase after Brittany.

Thirty seven seconds later, and still, nothing does. This is such fucking _bullshit._

"So you're denying the rumours, then?" Jacob asks, and it makes Santana want to punch him in the face for reiterating it. The damage has already been fucking done, no need to repeat it.

"Yes," she answers, short and simple.

Jacob gives her a reverent nod and then spins back towards the camera, microphone raised to his mouth. "You heard it first, here, from JIBTV," he says. "And cut."

When Jacob walks away without saying another word, Santana makes a mental note to do the same next time she's approached like that.

It'd make everything _so _much simpler.

* * *

Getting through the rest of the long, monotonous day is almost driving her to the brink of insanity.

But she knows how melodramatic she's being and instead sticks her head into her books and decides not to argue with any of the teachers when they yell at her for being late to class, even when she's the first one there.

(They're rendered speechless by the lack of response, and Santana thinks that she wouldn't have to yell if that's all it takes to shut them the hell up.)

She manages to dodge Brittany, Quinn and Sugar for the rest of the day, too, sticking to the outer corridors to navigate her way through the school and out to the car park when the bell rings at the end of the day.

Because God's decided to hate her today, when she gets home and slides out her car, she remembers that she didn't pick up her key from the side table – because Brittany's lips looked seriously enticing with the watermelon flavoured lipsmacker she just applied and Santana just couldn't resist – and her mother won't be home till she's picked Fernando up after his parent/teacher meeting at five. So now she has to go all Lara Croft and climb onto the garage and through her bedroom window.

To add onto that, she skins her elbow when her foot slips and she has to lurch to hang onto the window ledge because otherwise a tumble off the damn roof, and a trip to the ER will be added onto the list of reasons as to why today's a _shit _day.

When all is said and done, she kicks off her sneakers into the corner of her room, throws her bag there to join them and then slumps down onto her bed, face first. Her nose mashes onto the mattress a little harder, and it makes the bridge sting and eyes water and instead of groaning and whining about it, she does the only thing she can do and _laughs. _Laughs because this fucking day is fucking awful and all she wants to fucking do is go to fucking sleep because tomorrow fucking morning she's got Cheerios practise at seven in the fucking morning and she really doesn't fucking feel like going.

Her phone buzzes above her right boob, and she flips herself over and reaches inside her top to take it out. Squinting a little, because the change from the darkness of the comforter to the brightness of her screen takes her a little off guard, she slides her finger across the lock, punches in her pass code and opens the text.

_Rachel's going to Puck's tonight so I'm going with her instead. Sorry – B_

Santana's heart sinks and her phone slips from her hand, dropping onto her face and slapping onto her forehead. It hurts, but in comparison to the other events of the day and the lack of 'x's on the end of the text, it's not really that bad, just a perfect way to top off an already shit day.

She doesn't even bother replying, because she knows it'll probably come out as either something desperate like '_I'm sorry, please forgive me' _or something aggressive and defensive like '_you know this about me so why are you surprised?'_

Neither of them really seem that appealing right now.

The phone buzzes again, and her heart skips a beat because she thinks that maybe Brittany's texting her again to say that she doesn't care what was said and that she knows how difficult it is for Santana...

...Except when she opens it the damn text isn't even from Brittany.

Talk about wishful thinking.

_Heard about your interview with Israel. Good move. See you tonight at Puckerman's. Don't be late – Quinn._

Her phone splits apart when it collides with the wall, but she doesn't even care. She slumps back on to her pillows and shuts her eyes against the tears threatening to escape, hoping that God might turn the tables and gives her a good enough excuse so she doesn't have to go tonight.

Although, she likes to think the day can't get any worse. Hopefully.

* * *

She ends up going to Puck's party alone and a little late.

Lima's a relatively small town, so whenever there's any party, basically everyone knows about it. Not because it's one of Puckerman's infamous ones, but because the music is turned up so loudly that it vibrates and thumps through the quiet streets, keeping most families awake.

It's almost surprising that the police have never given an order for the Puckerman's to never be allowed to host a party again, seeing as they spend the majority of their Friday night's either waiting outside for a under-age drinker to stumble out, drunk out their brains, and throw up in one of the neighbour's or until one of said neighbours come out in a dressing gown and lean through the car window to complain about the 'rowdy teenagers'.

But whatever, she's not really that concerned with that. She won't be staying all that long; she's just here to make an appearance.

The first thing she does when she steps into the house (apart from barging her way through the many sweaty bodies on the living room's makeshift dance floor) is head for the kitchen. There's a variety of different bottles lined up on the counters and table tops, ranging from Jagermeister to Smirnoff and WKD to Jack Daniels; all the ingredients to create one hell of a hangover, or a toilet bowl full of stomach contents.

_Gross._

She bites down on her lip and reaches for one of the plastic cups, pouring in one of the cranberry mixers and then a few shots of vodka to quell the annoyance she feels of being sober around drunk people. It's never been one of her favourite things, and she at least needs to stay for half an hour. Anything less is is bordering on rude and no doubt there'll be a rumour going around as to why she left early.

She sips on her drink and tries not to think of the many things she could be doing at home that are without doubt, a million times more interesting than this party. Things like sorting her underwear drawer into different categories. Or scrolling through Facebook and finding out snippets of information that she can bring up when the conversation dies at the lunch table on Monday. Or even knocking one out to some free porn that Google led her to.

Pretty much anything would be more interesting than standing here in the kitchen, one hip cocked against the lip of the table as she tries to think of which combination of drinks would get her drunk the quickest.

Before Brittany came along, parties weren't this bad. And even if they were, Santana would entertain herself by switching on her radar and scoping the surrounding area, finding a girl with a nice ass or a nice rack and heading over to her to lean in and whisper seductive phrases into her ear until she pulls back and found that tell-tale glint in her eyes that say _let's do it_. The glint which would lead to Santana smirking, curling her fingers around the girl's wrist and tugging her through the house and up the stairs, into a vacant room where she'd kick the door shut with her foot and push her lips against another pair, hand instantly falling to the apex of the girl's thighs and hips pressing insistently into other hips.

Before Brittany came along, that's exactly what she would be doing right now, but for some God forsaken reason, she can't bring herself to even _think _about doing that to any of the girls with low dipping dresses. For some fucking reason, the mere thought of kissing someone that _isn't _Brittany pulls a disgusted noise from the pit of her stomach and makes her chest fill with something weird and spacey; because she knows it's Santana Lopez being - as fucking Jewfro said - put on a leash and fucking tamed, even if she wishes that weren't the damn truth.

So, instead, she lets out a hopeless sigh and makes her way through the kitchen and towards the living room. Her legs are starting to ache and she needs to sit down. Standing is just way too tempting as it's a single move away from turning into a walk, then another move to turn into a jog and so on. At least if she sits, there's a fighting chance she'll stay at the party.

The sound of someone cheering and yelling '_woop woop_' into the air fills her ears, and she rolls her eyes; knowing it's probably Puckerman finding some innocent Junior to scam on so he can take her virginity and brag about it to the football team on Monday. She doesn't know what the hell would possess a person to even think about going near him. Sure, his smile is rather charming, and his eyes are kind of a nice color - but he's grubbier than Patches the homeless guy.

Her legs lead her into the living room, and she twists her body to slide through the small gaps between heated bodies; shoulder bumping into other shoulders and arms jerking into arms, causing her drink to spill onto her fingers. An irritated breath escapes her lips, and she realizes how powerless she is without Quinn or Sugar beside her because no-one seems to be taking notice that it's Santana Lopez trying to pass through and instead just bumble into her without so much as a glance.

She can't even be bothered to let them know it's her, if she's honest.

(Even if they would widen their eyes, drop their mouths open and spill many apologies if they knew.)

The sound of cheering doubles and Santana hears a few more people joining in. Once again, she rolls her eyes because now there's probably some drunk chick taking off her top now and spinning it in a rodeo circle above her head. So she ignores it and passes a few more people, eyes flitting across the sea of people to find Quinn or Sugar because she's a little out her comfort zone right now. Maybe more than a little, actually.

She finds a seat in the far corner. It's next to a couple, who are practically grinding on each other as they make out and rock from side to side on the couch, awkwardly bumping into her when she takes a seat and it hits her why the damn seat was free. This is just ridiculous.

Sipping on her drink, she shoves back when the guy bumps into her a little harder than before, and then the couple break apart and look at her wide eyed. She cocks a brow, curls her lip a little and the girl mutters several apologies as she rises from the couch, grabbing the guys hand and tugs him away. _Now _she feels a little more comfortable.

(She knows it's a little sad to feel that way because someone's scared of her; but whatever.)

Her eyes continue to roam, and she finds Rachel Berry leaning up against the wall, talking to Puck who has an arm raised above her head, propping himself up but subtly bringing them closer together. Her heart skips a beat when she thinks back to Brittany's text earlier and realizes that Berry's here, so Brittany must be too. That's when her foot starts to tap insistently on the floor and her drink disappears down her throat at a more rapid pace, eyes still searching.

Except, when she finds Brittany, the cranberry and vodka mix swirling in her mouth goes down the wrong pipe and then she begins to choke. Blood rushes to her cheeks and she throws down her cup with no regard for the stains it may leave on the carpet, and brings her hand to her chest whilst gasping for air. Because Brittany _is _there, dancing in the centre of the living room with a few jocks gazing at her with jaws dropped open and eyes almost bulging out their heads.

(Now she gets what the cheering was about.)

Brittany has her arms raised above her, yanking her top up in the process to expose the flesh of her toned abs as her hips sway to the rhythm of the music. Her eyes are closed, and face completely relaxed as she loses herself in her own little world and Santana starts to get why the jocks are staring. Not because Brittany's smoking hot - even though, _yeah, _she really fucking is - but because Brittany's in her own peaceful bliss, looking more beautiful than ever as she wanders around in a place very different from the one she's _actually _at.

Santana stares at Brittany for the rest of the song, her thumb rubbing over the inside of her palm as she licks her lips and smiles at how serene Brittany looks like this. Sure, she's seen her dance before, but that was in the Choir room and to a Beyonce song about empowering women. It was rushed and heavy, all defined choreography and sharp moves. But this... this is just Brittany enjoying the ability to roll her hips and drag her fingers down her own body as she wanders about inside her own mind and listens to how the music affects her body.

It's _incredibly _distracting.

But not distracting enough that Santana misses the jock that struts over, buffing out his chest and running his clumsy hands down her ribs when he reaches her. He curls his fingers into her hips, nails biting into the bare flesh and Santana has to bite down the urge to jump up and rip the guy's head off; knowing that if Brittany didn't want it, she would have pushed him away immediately.

So, she just sits there and narrows her eyes as the jock pulls Brittany close, hips fitting over the curve of her ass and rutting into her; almost to the point where he's practically dry-humping her in the middle of the fucking living room. Burning hot jealousy pours into Santana's veins, quickening her pulse until she can feel it hammering in her neck and her fingers curl bone tight around the arm of the sofa, where her hand lies. She grits her teeth together, a metallic tang seeps onto her tongue and she realizes that she's been biting down so damn hard that somewhere along the line she caught her cheek and now there's a piece of protruding flesh sticking out from the side.

Downing the rest of her drink removes the taste of blood.

As soon as she sees the jock lean in, palms gliding around to press against Brittany's stomach as his lips brush behind her ear, Santana loses it. She's up quicker than she could say _fucking asshole _and her fingers are winding around his bicep and yanking until he stumbles back and away from Brittany. Her heart thumps loudly in her chest, and she momentarily wonders how she managed to pull the jock away seeing as he's about half a foot taller than her and has thick muscles rippling underneath his tight t-shirt, but her eyes are burning and nostrils are flaring, so she doesn't really dwell on that.

(Although she might later because it was pretty damn cool.)

"What the fuck?" The jock asks, face contorting with confusion and slight fury.

"Stay away from her," she grinds her teeth together and listens to her pulse fall into rhythm with the intense thumping of the dance music.

The jock pulls his brows together and looks back towards his friends. He scoffs when he turns back to her. "She ain't yours, Lopez."

Santana clenches her jaw and waits until her lips curl into a snarl to reply. "She isn't anyone's," she gulps and feels blue eyes lock onto her. "But if she were, she'd be mine. So fuck off, needle dick," she steps forward and tilts her chin up sharply. "And have some fun with your right hand because that's all the action you're getting tonight."

The jock rolls his tongue in his mouth, creating a strange scoff as he stares at her; obviously deciding whether to retort or walk away. But Santana holds her place, fists curling into a ball as she stares him out, knowing anything he throws at her, she can throw back with twice as much aggression and humiliation. Because now she's standing close to him, she knows who he is and therefore has an endless amount of information to use against him if he is to attempt to insult her.

He's Richard Ferguson, a corner back for the football team who played Batman and Robin with his best friend Tony Ramirez (who also happens to be on the football team) up until 9th grade. Little Richard also possesses a little dick (ironically) which he was caught shaking hands with after a football game to an article in _Men's Muscle _magazine.

Santana doesn't think he'd appreciate any of that getting out, especially not at a party filled with the majority of students at McKinley.

"_Tsskk," _the jock kisses his teeth and her and waves her off; his eyes flashing with fear as she shows him that _I know something about you _smirk. "Whatever," he shakes his head and beckons to Tony (Santana almost laughs) who follows shortly after. "Fucking chicks."

She turns, lifting her chin triumphantly but then finds Brittany staring at her with a mixed expression. Half of it seems like Brittany's still pissed off, and the other half seems like she's utterly shocked that a) Santana just pulled a jock off with a single jerk of the arm, and b) she just said Brittany was hers. Santana gulps when she realizes that _yeah, _she actually _just _did that. And not only did she just claim Brittany, but it's the first time she's even vocalized _anything_ about the two of them.

She's actually a little shocked herself.

Instead of using words, and because there's already a few people staring at what just happened, Santana takes a step towards the other girl and silently pleads with her eyes for forgiveness. It takes a long moment, but blue eyes soften and something breaks in Brittany's hardened features that makes a small smile play at Santana's lips.

"Dance with me," she whispers, reaching her hand out and turning it palm up; offering out more than just a silly dance.

Brittany worries her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes flicking between the hand and brown eyes; but then she sucks in a deep breath and nods slowly. Santana grins, and when a hand slips into hers, she has a hard time breathing because she hasn't touched Brittany in more than twelve hours and it's becoming more and more evident that she kind of needs Brittany quite a lot, actually.

Allowing Brittany to turn, Santana moves until she has her front pressing up into the other girl's back; hands and fingers finding their place onto the skin of Brittany's hips. The song playing isn't one she knows of, but apparently Brittany does and she takes the lead; reaching up with both hands to curl around Santana's neck and pull them closer until they're both swaying to the music.

_"And it feels like I am just too close to love you..."_

Fingers curl into the hair at the nape of her neck and pulls her closer until there's no space between their bodies, until Santana can feel herself pressing up against Brittany as hips roll and grind back on her. It's almost maddening how incredible it feels, all the intimacy and the heat building between them, and how their faces are mere inches away from each other, but neither of them are willing to break this moment as the music pulses through them.

_"There's nothing I can really say..."_

Santana feels her breathing pick up and tilts her chin to rest upon Brittany's shoulder - inwardly clapping herself on the back for the choice of high heeled boots - and twists her neck until her nose runs up the length of a pale neck, inhaling and smelling sweetness. Honey. Vanilla. Brittany. All of it mixing into an intoxicating scent that makes her head swim and hands shift to run around Brittany's body until they press against the flat plane of her stomach, holding them close together.

_"I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more..."_

Despite the intense warmth prickling their skin, the thin layer of sweat covering both their bodies, the heavy beat that thrums through her body and the flashing lights that allow them to see each other for a split second at a time, it isn't an erotic dance that makes Santana want to drag Brittany away, throw her into a vacant room and tear her clothes off, ravishing her right then and there.

(The growing bulge in her crotch contradicts that, but Brittany's rubbing up on her and it's pretty damn hard not to get... well, hard.)

_"Got to be true to myself..."_

Brittany twirls suddenly in her arms, linking her arms around Santana's neck and pulling close until their hips fit together. She slips a thigh between Brittany's, their bodies moving even close as they roll in sync and grind up on each other. The heat almost becomes too much, but the closeness of Brittany is way too hypnotizing to pull herself away. From this distance, where their noses bump and hot breath mixes in the small gap between their mouths, Santana can see and feel everything. She can see the few freckles forming over the bridge of Brittany's nose, the small grey flecks in piercing blue eyes and the sharpness of Brittany's cat-like eyes.

From this distance... she can feel everything. Feel the way Brittany's muscles flex in her arms, almost nervously as they curl around Santana's neck and bring their foreheads together. She can feel the way the breath catches in Brittany's throat when Santana spans her fingertips against her lower back and twists her neck a little to brush her lips over the throbbing pulse in Brittany's neck. Santana can even feel the damn way in which Brittany pulls back, wetting her lips and staring into brown eyes, silently pleading to be kissed.

_"And it feels like I am just too close to love you..."_

Santana feels the unspoken question flood through her body, quickening her already rapid heart beat and knows that this is a confirmation of her earlier declaration. Bringing their bodies to a slow rock, she inhales deeply, feeling her chest fill and expand with Brittany, Brittany, Brittany and it feels so fucking good that she doesn't really give a shit about who's looking or staring. Or what's going to be floating around the school hallways on Monday morning. She just doesn't care because Brittany's right here, in her arms, gazing at her with such trust and adoration that Santana almost has to look away.

But she doesn't.

_"So I'll be on my way..."_

* * *

**You know the drill! (:**


	14. Part Fourteen

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Fourteen]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **9.5k  
**Author's Note:** Thank you to my beta, she's awesome as always.**  
**

* * *

Santana has all the intention of kissing Brittany as they both lean in towards each other. But apparently Brittany has different ideas and pulls away to peck her on the cheek; leaving her lips to linger over her skin a little longer than necessary. A flush of rejection pours through her, and she feels her face redden as her eyes flicker down to her boots.

"I'm going to go and get a drink," Brittany whispers, separating their bodies a little more, but still keeping her arms around Santana's neck and swaying them to the song playing overhead. "You want one?"

Feeling a little more than embarrassed, Santana shakes her head but then switches and nods. "I'll get it," she offers.

"You sure?" Brittany pulls her lips into a small smile, apparently oblivious to Santana's emotions.

"Yep," Santana drops her hands from the other girl's waist and tucks her thumbs into her belt loops as turns and heads towards the kitchen. Brittany remains in her place, but her body doesn't continue to move to the music like it did a minute ago and Santana tries not to think that maybe she gave the girl the cold shoulder. In all fairness, though, it was given to her first. Not that she's being childish and giving as good as she gets, but _yeah._

She passes Rachel who's still talking to Puckerman, and offers him a small smile in lieu of a greeting; but makes no attempt to even acknowledge Berry's presence. The kitchen is relatively full when she gets in there, and just as luck would have it, Quinn's standing there, butt resting on the lip of the table and rim of the cup between her teeth as one arm is tucked under the other. Her eyes are narrowed, and jaw clenched as she focuses intently on something; the color of her hazel orbs burning with something Santana thinks to be indignation.

"Are you okay?" She asks, not bothering with a 'hello' as she leans to grab two cups on the other side of Quinn. But the blonde doesn't move, and Santana has to stretch her body forward to reach them; rolling her eyes because that's _so _Quinn.,

"Fine," Quinn snaps back, gnawing on the lip of the cup and twisting it around with her hand.

Santana wants to call bullshit, but as her mouth drops open to make a witty or sarcastic comment, she finds what Quinn's staring at. An amused smile tugs at her lips and she cocks a brow as she grabs the bottle of vodka and a carton of orange juice. They're the only things here that are unopened, and God knows there's probably some jackass here who thinks it's funny to spike the uncapped drinks. She pours in a good amount of orange juice into the cup, then adds two shots of vodka on top of each to allow it to filter through and mix properly.

(Her uncle is a bartender in New York and taught her how to mix drinks properly when she was 12.)

Screwing the lids back onto both the vodka and the juice, Santana picks up the cups and turns; resting her ass onto the table in the same way Quinn is. Her eyes lock onto Quinn's target and she smirks as she brings one of the drinks to her lips and tips it back.

"Jealous?"

Quinn whips her head around. "What?" She hisses.

"Puck and Frodo," she stretches out her pointer finger, the others still curled around the cup to point at Berry. "Are you jealous?"

"No," Quinn snaps back, turning her attention back to the two people in the living room.

Santana arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "So, why are you giving him the evil eye?"

"I'm giving _her _the evil eye," the blonde replies, her voice low and sharp.

"Why? Puck's with you," Santana shrugs. "You know he's not going to get some somewhere else," she smiles. "And even if he was, he wouldn't go to _Berry. _Trying to get between those stubs she calls legs is like climbing the Berlin Wall."

Quinn grinds her teeth together, audibly. "I'm not with Puckerman," she says after a long moment.

Santana's pretty sure her eyes just bulged out her head. "What!" She half-yells, thankful she didn't take the mouthful she was about to otherwise it'd be on Puck's kitchen floor and drooling down her chin. That would've been attractive.

"I broke up with him," the blonde mumbles, almost too quietly to hear.

Flickering her gaze between Rachel, Puck and Quinn, Santana tries to comprehend what the hell's going on. Because Quinn looks like she's two seconds about from ripping... _someone's _head off - God knows whose - and Puck doesn't seem that phased that he's being glared at by his ex girlfriend. Nor does Rachel seem to care that the most popular girl in school is shooting daggers at her with her eyes. But then she sees Puck wander off into the party, departing with a simple wink shot at Rachel, and relaxes a little. Only because axe murderer Quinn is never fun to be around. Especially not at a party with alcohol.

Her jaw drops open and she's just about to say _'see, there? it's nothing.' _But then she notices that Quinn's _still _completely focused on Rachel and there's something lacking in hazel eyes that was there before. Something that Santana thought was the 'tearing someone's head off.' Why would Quinn still be staring if she there's no aggression behind her glare?

So, Santana decides to say something. "If you broke up with him, then what's the problem? And why are you staring at Berry, still?"

"Why are you with Brittany?" Quinn retorts back, venom in her words but her eyes still completely locked onto Rachel. "And Puck's still mine and Rachel's still got her stubbly fingers all over him."

Santana's just about to say something when she processes Quinn words and jerks her head back. Slowly, she pushes off the table, leaving both cups on top and narrows her eyes as they dart between Rachel and Quinn. Something's not right, because Puck's not even there anymore. In fact, he's nowhere near Rachel, yet Quinn's still staring.

"You are aware Puckerman's not standing next to Rachel anymore, right?" Her vision flits towards the living room where she finds him dancing behind some girl, his hands roaming all over the girl's body. "He's over there," she points to him and looks back to Quinn who hasn't moved. She dips her head. "_Grinding _on a freshman."

It's actually amusing how fast Quinn's face twists from stoic to panicked. Her hazel eyes widen, mouth pops open into a small 'o' and face pales at least a few shades lighter than before. Her lips move and quiver, almost like she's trying to think of something to retort back and Santana just stands and watches, a proud smirk crossing her own lips as she begins to piece together random bits to create a bigger picture. Except she can't really see that damn picture. It's all fuzzy and blurred even though it's right fucking in front of her.

"Well, why don't you go and join him, then?"

Santana presses her lips together to hide the smile formed by Quinn's awful comeback. "What?"

"You've got to find your stress relief."

"Stress relief."

Quinn straightens up, places her cup down on the table behind her and then faces Santana with her bitch smirk on. "Well, yeah. You're not getting any at the moment and clearly you're pissed," Quinn gestures down her body. "And need some stress relief."

Santana ignores the jibe at the lack of sex. "What does that have to do with joining Puck?"

"You can't live without sex and you're not getting any. So you should probably go and relieve your stress," Quinn shrugs and begins to walk into the living room; pausing and throwing a look over her shoulder when she gets to the doorway. "And piss Puck off at the same time by stealing the girl he's all up on."

Lurching from her place, Santana crosses the kitchen in only a few strides, stepping over the threshold and into the living room to catch up with Quinn. She manages to grab the girl's arm before she gets too far into the living room and brings them both to a halt, feeling her heart thrum against her chest. Quinn turns to her, eyes darting down to where Santana's hand is curled around her forearm and then back up again to brown eyes.

"Yes?"

"I'm not gonna go and-" her voice breaks as she tries to work out what Quinn means and what to say simultaneously. "I don't _need _sex, Quinn."

Quinn scoffs and yanks her arm away. The music is louder in here than it was in the kitchen and so Santana has to step a little closer to the blonde to listen to her response. "Santana, you're like a cat on heat. You need to line up the next girl to screw after Britt and you could piss Puck off at the same time by choosing the girl he's with at the moment," Quinn smirks and crosses her arms, slowly. "It's like a win-win situation."

"I don't _want _to find another girl to screw," Santana retorts, increasing the volume of her voice not only because the music's loud but because she can feel the rage crawling through her veins. "I can have fucking feelings, Fabray."

"I didn't say you couldn't. You just can't for _her,_" Quinn tilts her head and brown eyes flicker over, registering where Quinn's gesturing and finding Brittany, still dancing in the centre of the room. "I mean look at her, she's an _outcast. _She's not like u_s,_" she purses her lips and raises her top lip in slight disgust. "You shouldn't even be hanging out with her."

Intense ferocity burns in the pit of her stomach and Santana shakes her head, lips curling into a snarl. Her mind flicks through the many responses she could spit back, or the many things she could do like grabbing Quinn's hair and yanking hard. But then she _really _thinks about what Quinn says, and comes up with the perfect answer. One that doesn't even need aggression to stress her point.

"You're right," she nods and looks down to the floor. "She is an outcast," her breathing picks up and then her neck straightens as she glances back into hazel eyes. "_All _the Glee kids are outcasts because they're the most talented people in our school," she licks her lips and sees the shock pass over Quinn's face. "Brittany's an outcast because just look at her," she lifts one hand and points to Brittany before dropping it. "She can dance like a freaking dream when she's not even trying."

_"Glee kids?" _Quinn repeats with sheer shock lacing her tone. "You're making them sound _normal_, Santana."

Santana throws her hands up in the air. "They are fucking normal, Quinn!" She yells and feels several pairs of eyes snap to her.

"No," Quinn's eyes burn with rage and Santana becomes remotely aware of how the majority of the people surrounding them are now looking towards them and whispering to other people; who just turn their attention and join. "They're _freaks. _You can't hang around with Brittany anymore. You can't hold hands with her behind your car and act normal because it's _not," _she shakes her head. "This _isn't _what we planned."

A small sarcastic chuckle bursts through Santana's lips as she averts her gaze to her shoes. She can feel her veins spiking with intense irritation as she realizes that Quinn's words sound incredibly similar to the ones she heard earlier. Ones she heard coming from Jacob Ben Israel's mouth. It should shock her. She should be gasping, pressing her hand to her chest and thinking how the hell Quinn could do something like that to her. But, now that she thinks about it, this sudden discovery doesn't surprise her at all. Quinn's always been a conniving little bitch. So why would she have suddenly changed?

"You told Jacob about me and Britt," she whispers, mostly to herself as she continues to giggle despite her being more than unamused. "You wanted to break me and Britt apart before we were even official," she glances up and feels her fists curl at the top of her thighs. "Are you really _that _much of a bitch, Quinn?" Quinn's eyes widen from their narrowed stance and Santana takes a daring step forward, feeling anger fuelled heat build around the collar of her shirt as she spits out her words. "Trying to purposely hurt people and tear them apart because they don't fit up to your _pathetic _standards?"

"They're not pathetic, Lopez, and they're not just _mine,_" Quinn ducks her head and curls her lips further until they're both leaning forward and snarling like two lions. "They're _everyone's _standards. They were even yours once upon a time."

Quinn looks Santana up and down at the irrational (or rational?) urge to deliver a right hook to the blonde's perfectly chiselled jaw burns down her arm and sizzles out at her fingertips. She bites it back though, knowing Quinn has more to say. No point in hitting Quinn if the worst is still to come.

"You can't _date _a _Choir freak_, Santana," Quinn shakes her head and straightens her neck up, lifting her chin regally. "They're-"

"They're what?" Santana cuts in exasperatedly, flexing her fingers as a dull ache throbs through them. "Rejects? Nerds? Losers? _No_," she sucks in a deep breath and feels her insides jitter and heart pound against her chest. "They're people. Like you and me." Quinn opens her mouth but Santana lets out a laugh and reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, shaking her head with closed eyes. "No, wait," she drops her hand and stares back into hazel eyes. "They're not like us at all, that's one thing we can agree on. They're _better _than me and you, and they deserve so much more than people give them."

(Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Santana registers the way the music's dimming in the background.)

"They're not freaks," she continues and flares her nostrils because she doesn't know how to relieve the animosity she feels without hurting Quinn. "They're actually pretty damn amazing," she thinks about earlier when she was standing outside the Choir room, and how happy all of the Glee kids looked. She's actually quite envious of them. "And they don't deserve the shit they get."

"_You _give them shit, Santana," Quinn bares her teeth. "We _all _do," she sweeps around to the party, gesturing to everyone standing around.

It's then that Santana realizes just how many people are watching. The strobe lights have stopped, and now they're basically in a fucking spotlight. The music's on an incredibly low level and there's no longer the cheers or giggles of drunk teenagers. Now there's just silence as the attendees of the party watch and stare at the two head bitches scream and yell at each other.

Santana feels a strange sense of pride for doing this in front of everyone, and for doing it _at all _actually. She's always put up with Quinn's shit, and now she's just letting go and giving it all she has. Exposing Quinn for what she really is, and in some ways, exposing herself.

"And why do we do that?" She asks, rhetorically. "To get a kick? To piss people off and try to demean them because we _know_," she pounds her fists to her chest. "We fucking _know _that they're better than us."

The air around her heats and she feels something creep down her spine. But it's not the chilling way that she had become accustomed to. It's a familiar warmth and it comforts her in some strange way. Spurs her to go on.

"We give these people _hell _because we can't handle the fact that as soon as we graduate, our popularity, our reputation, all of it," she shrugs and offers her hands out, palm up. "It'll just disappear. And _they _will be the ones heading off to Julliard and earning a celebrity status five years down the line, and so much money they could practically fucking _swim _in it," she lowers her voice when it strains at her vocal chords. "Whilst we settle for a mediocre job in this ridiculous excuse for a town."

Apparently, Quinn completely ignores everything Santana has to say because she lets out a chuckle and throws her head back to increase the volume. Startled and slightly shocked by the action, Santana tilts her head to the side and steps back; almost like she's backing down from the argument. But she doesn't want to give out the wrong impression, so she clenches her jaw and feels her features twitch with exasperation.

"They're not better than us," Quinn finally says. "How can you even say that? They're _nothing._"

This time it's Santana that laughs. "Quinn," she runs her tongue along her teeth and feels the warmth intensify as someone stands behind her. Hazel eyes flicker over her shoulder but she ignores it and continues. "Have you even seen what they can do?"

Quinn's face falls, but she still shakes her head slightly as if to say _no._

"Exactly," Santana takes a deep breath in and grinds her teeth together. "Have you actually watched Brittany dance?" Quinn remains silent. "Because then you'll know how fucking beautiful it is to watch," she takes a small step towards the blonde and feels the strength to challenge Quinn build within her.

"And Berry? Who yeah, is annoying as shit," she says and then laughs when in her peripheral vision, she registers Rachel's mouth drop open in offence from where she's standing by the sofa. "But she can fucking _sing. _Insanely well, actually." Quinn's eyes dart towards Rachel and Santana witnesses the movement, but makes no comment as she doesn't want to drag anyone else into this.

"That sassy black chick, Mercedes?" She sucks in her lips and remembers watching the girl sing '_I Will Always Love You' _earlier on. "She'd make Whitney Houston proud."

Her voice is a little calmer when she finishes her sentence, but then she sees Quinn's facial features sharpen and eyes narrow in fury once more and it breaks something inside of Santana. Breaks something she's been holding for way too long. Something she's been keeping through her high school years, where she's been playing second fucking fiddle to Quinn and done everything she was supposed too. Where she made every choice she did because she thought it was the right one

"What has she done to you?" Quinn mutters, eyes lingering up Santana's body. "What has the stupid fucking _freak-" _she spits the word out like she's disgusted it even formed in her mouth. "-done to you?"

That's all it takes for Santana to snap like a rubber band and lurch forward with all the intention of doing _something _to Quinn. But then cool fingers wrap around her own and all movement her body is making stills. She almost hates that Brittany has that effect on her because Quinn is looking imminently slappable right now.

"You don't have to do this," Brittany whispers so only she can hear. "You've proved enough, Santana."

Santana flares her nostrils, gasping for her breath because she's wants nothing more to close the gap between her and Quinn and feel the skin of Quinn's cheek against the back of her hand. But she knows if she does that then Brittany will be disappointed in her and she's not quite sure she can handle that again. Not after dropping Brittany's hand in Spanish _and _saying all those things to Jewfro this morning.

"No," she grits out. The memories bringing a fresh wave of irritation through her. "I'm doing this."

"Santana," Brittany says, a little louder this time and Santana twists her neck to stare into piercing blue. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone," the blonde continues, her voice steady despite her chest heaving up and down rapidly. Santana thinks hers is doing the same.

"You don't have to do this for me," Brittany sucks in her lips and pleas with her eyes as her fingers stroke over Santana's, attempting to calm her. Santana has to admit, it's kind of working.

Her palms start to itch as she stares at Brittany, trying to weigh out her options. At the point in time, she can either push back her aggression and step away, shaking her head at Quinn and take the place as the bigger person; or she can apologize to Brittany and show Quinn the full extent of Snix's wrath... Which is usually the first thing she would do, without even so much as a seconds hesitation. "Just walk away."

Except-

The thing is-

That was before Brittany came along.

That was before Brittany showed her that maybe she _isn't _that bad of a person...

And now with Brittany looking at her with these deep blue eyes, full of hope and trust... Eyes that are seeing past the fury and delving into the crevices of her soul and trying to tell and show her something that she hasn't yet grasped upon. Something which Santana knows is the little light at the end of the tunnel, where Brittany thinks she better than this. Where Brittany's trying to tell Santana that she is a good person and _doesn't _have to give into Quinn and react to her crafty little mind games and cruel words.

She's not entirely sure if she likes this look that Brittany's giving her. Because she's not sure she actually _is _a better person than she thinks she is.

"You're better than this," Brittany breathes hopefully, her fingers loosening around Santana's and putting the ball in her court.

Which, actually, is a pretty dangerous move. Because Brittany should know better than that.

Brittany should know that _now_ there's no restraint physically holding Santana back. She could lunge and reach Quinn in less than a second, and soon enough four people would have to jump on top of her to tug her away from Quinn because there's a law or something regarding beating the crap out of someone. A law that, honestly? Santana doesn't really give a crap about. Not with that jaw-clenched smirk spread across Quinn's lips and that '_you won't do it' _glare that's just taunting Santana.

Except she's been friends with Quinn long enough to know that if she gives in, Quinn's just going to win. She knows that if she reacts and does _exactly _what Quinn wants her to, she will have lost and that'll just make that fucking smirk grow twice it's fucking size.

There's no way she'll be able to hold herself back then. Might as well stop now.

"Yeah," she finally says, bringing herself out the slight crouch she was in. Her eyes find Brittany and she takes in deep breaths to steady her pounding pulse. "I am."

"So what?" Quinn scoffs, breaking Santana from her thoughts and Brittany's stare. "She's telling you what to do now?"

It's not exactly the reaction she expected, because as soon as she turns around and allows Quinn's words to flow through her mind, she begins to laugh. Not an amused laugh, but a laugh none the less.

"No, Quinn," she allows her eyes to roam around the room before they return to hazel ones. "Britt's not telling me what to do. She's telling me about myself because she _knows _me. She's taken the time to _get to know me,_" she points to herself with one hand, keeping the other balled by her jean-cladded thigh.

"She knows that if I don't stop now, not only will Coach Sue kick my ass for giving her head cheerleader two black eyes and a broken nose," she breathes out and glances around, noting just _how many _people are staring at this interaction. Strangely enough, it only spurs her to continue.

"But the police won't take too kindly to my actions, either," she shakes her head. "She's not _telling _me what to do, she's _showing _me what I _should_ do because she knows me," she lets out another laugh and tilts her head to look at the ceiling, snapping it back only a second later. "Better than you know me, and probably better than myself," she nods along with her words like she's agreeing with herself.

"No," Quinn snaps immediately, thrusting her hand up to point over Santana's shoulder. "She's making you look _weak, _Santana." Her eyes flicker down to Santana's boots and then trail up her body with disgust, "Weaker than you already are."

Santana clenches her jaw until the skin feels like it's about to tear from were it's tightening around the bone. "I'm not weak, Fabray," she spits, the anger getting the better of her. "I'll fucking prove that now," she emphasizes her words by taking a daring step forward, into Quinn's personal space.

"Is that a threat-" Quinn closes the gap between them until the tips of their noses are touching and their seething at each other. "Lopez?"

"It's not a fucking threat if I put it into action."

"I'm the co-captain of the squad now, Santana," Quinn lifts her chin as she speaks. "So choose your words carefully."

Santana almost laughs. "What do you mean, co-captain?" She says through a clenched jaw.

Quinn crosses her arms over her chest and smirks, her upper lip curling into a small snarl. "Coach said you haven't been carrying own weight," she runs her tongue along her teeth. "Said you may need help and I was there to offer my services. So I'd be careful if I were you," she smirks. "You're on thin ice."

This time, Santana _does _actually laugh; knowing that if it came to it, she could totally kick Quinn's ass in a fight. And the fact that Quinn knows this, and has to use her newly appointed position in the fucking Cheerios to out-do her is a hell of a lot more amusing than she thought it would be. Sure, Quinn's only the _co_-captain; but she still has jurisdiction over Santana considering Coach Sue's always preferred the damn blonde. That was always a problem with Quinn. The fear that she would take away Santana's position.

_Old _Santana would be shocked. _Old _Santana would be standing here, trying to push away the hurt flowing through her body. _Old _Santana would have given a crap. But this Santana doesn't. Instead, she just finds it amusing.

So much so, that she rubs her nose with her thumb and the bottom of her forefinger to hide the smirk tugging at her lips.

"You're pathetic, Quinn."

Quinn narrows her eyes further, but doesn't reply.

"And you know what? I don't even care," she straightens up and takes a step back until a curious warmth presses against the small of her back to steady her.

_Brittany's hand._

"You can do what you fucking want, because I'm not going to be a part of your silly little high school fantasy, anymore," she lifts both hands, palms up beside her ears as if she's surrendering. "I'm done with you."

Fingers dig into the base of her top and she reaches behind her to grab at Brittany's hand, tangling their fingers together and stepping to the side to reveal to Quinn exactly what she's doing. A shocked expression passes over the head cheerleaders face, and Santana can't help but smirk. Meanwhile, her eyes roam the room and meet some of the people staring at her; who basically shrivel back as soon as their eyes lock.

(They've never seemed more terrified of her.)

"I'm out."

She shrugs to emphasize her words before looking towards Brittany; who's staring back with a soft smile, baby blue eyes and this gleam inside of them that creates warmth around Santana's heart and makes her heart skip a beat because it says _I'm so proud of you _without actually saying it. A low sigh escapes her lips and she juts her head towards the front door, visible from this position; wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of here now that Quinn's run out of violent words and empty threats.

"Let's go," she whispers, squeezing Brittany's hand before tugging them through the sea of people who move apart instantly, staring at her like they're both amazed and terrified. They probably shouldn't be, because she's just basically revealed a side of herself that no-one bar her family or Brittany has ever seen. A kinder, more loving one that – whilst yes, still doesn't take any shit from anyone – is willing to give up everything she's built up for the past God knows how many years, for a girl.

No, scratch that, for Brittany.

But, as soon as she opens the front door and moves to step outside, Quinn's voice pulls her back.

"Without me and the Cheerios, you're nothing." Quinn's face is paler then it was five minutes ago. A little more panicked, too.

Santana glances over her shoulder and looks the blonde cheerleader in the eye. "_With _you and the Cheerios, I'm nothing," she rolls her shoulder in a half shrug. "So it's not really like I'm losing anything."

The sound Brittany makes – a soft, airy sigh that's curved through a smile – practically makes Santana's heart fly out of her chest and do a little celebratory dance. She never knew a _sound _could make her feel so fucking amazing. Well, that and the combination that as she turns to Brittany, she can see the adoration and pride beam out her eyes. She doesn't hold back the smile. She doesn't need to anymore.

"Oh, and Quinn?" Santana says the words despite her looking straight at Brittany.

When nothing comes in reply, she turn and sees Quinn staring at them with interest. With the knowledge that the entire party and Quinn are watching them, it sends a surge of confidence through her body and she releases their hands, returning her gaze to Brittany as she reaches up and cups creamy cheeks. She spares a quick glance into blue eyes to check there's no hesitation; smiling when Brittany nods gently - only enough so that Santana can see and feel it – and then leans forward.

Santana brushes her lips over Brittany's, barely touching, and then tilts her head to the side before pressing them together properly. Then they're kissing. Soft, sweet and hesitant. Pouring emotions and words into it that can't be vocalized. Santana's nose nudges against Brittany's cheek as she switches the kiss to suck at her bottom lip gently, breathing out through her nose and moaning lightly when hands come up to tangle at the base of dark locks.

She pulls away smiling, and then moves one hand back down to tangle their fingers together, and the other so she can run her thumb underneath Brittany's bottom lip; removing the moisture there and inwardly marvelling at how Brittany has that half-spaced out look that tells Santana that kissing her makes her dizzy. She knows the feeling only too well. She's currently battling the dizziness.

Unable to resist, and pretty much completely forgetting that there's an entire part of people staring, Santana cranes her neck and presses her lips to Brittany's briefly. Sighing out against the other girl's mouth when she feels Brittany push back and try to prolong it.

"Thank you," she whispers, slightly unsure why the sudden rush of gratitude. Brittany smiles, the bow of her lip touching Santana's when she smiles because they're just _that _close. Opening her eyes, and seeing nothing but blue, Santana finds the strength to pull away and whispers, "Come on," before tugging Brittany out of the house and down the footpath, both of them giggling as they hear nothing but silence coming from the house behind them.

* * *

They giggle the entire way back to Brittany's house, staggering when the laughter gets the better of them and pausing when they have to bend over to catch their breath.

There isn't really anything in particular that's causing them to giggle erratically, because really, the fact that Santana just quit Cheerios and yelled at the head cheerleader, who also happened to be her best friend, isn't funny at all. Because now when Monday comes, she'll have no idea what to expect.

In all honesty though, with Brittany by her side, squeezing their hands and leaning over every now and then to press a kiss to her cheek just because she can_,_ Santana kind of finds it hard to give a crap. It's pretty damn hard to feel anything but joy and adoration whenever she's around Brittany. It's just in Brittany's nature to make people feel like that.

Stumbling up to Brittany's front door, Santana grins and steps behind her; hands instantly falling to hips and fingers spanning underneath the hem of her tank top. She glides the pads of her fingers across warm skin, along the ridge of her protruding hip bones and then across to her belly button and up the dip in her abs. She doesn't really know why she does it, because they're never really _this _touchy, but she just has a craving to touch Brittany because now she can, whenever and wherever she wants.

So she's going to take advantage of this new privilege.

"San," Brittany chuckles when Santana grazes her nails down the flat plane of her stomach. "That tickles."

Santana doesn't stop though, just soothes over her previous path with her palm and presses closer; her hips fitting over the curve of Brittany's ass and chin resting on to her shoulder as she watches slender fingers fiddle with the keys to the Pierce household.

"You should probably open the door quicker, then," she whispers, her lips by the hinge of Brittany's jaw.

"It's not like I'm not trying," the other girl replies with feigned irritation in her tone. "You're just slightly distracting."

"Am I now?"

The lock on the door clicks and then it swings open, a rush of warmth greeting them both. Santana barely has time to step away before Brittany's crossed over the threshold and turned, hands grappling at her shirt and tugging her inside. A small yelp escapes her lips, surprised by the sheer boldness of the blonde's actions, but it's muffled by soft ones pressing over her own. Moaning lightly, Santana kisses Brittany back with everything she has, grinning when teeth nip at her lower lip until it's only the bows of their lips and noses and cheeks touching.

"What was that for?" She pants a little, tilting her head to the side to nuzzle their noses slightly.

Brittany doesn't answer straight away. Instead, she delays her answer by leaning in to kiss Santana slowly, drawing out the movement and cupping the nape of a tanned neck. She pulls back, only enough for them to catch their breath.

"The party..." the blonde breathes out and Santana instinctively pulls her closer, until there's no space between them. "You kissed me-" she licks her lips and glides her hands up Santana's neck to toy with the hairs at the base of her neck. "And the whole Quinn thing..." Brittany closes her eyes and shakes her head a little. "I just-" she opens them and Santana catches her breath at the piercing blue staring back at her. "I'm just _so_ proud of you."

Santana reaches up and brushes a piece of hair behind Brittany's ear, her eyes following the movement as she feels her heart swell, melt and bloom inside her chest all at the same time. Her mind races and when her eyes return to blue, she can't see anything else but happiness and love staring back at her and heat pricks at the back of her lids because no-one's ever looked at her like this before, like she's their everything.

Suddenly, her body stills and fingers freeze by the Brittany's temple, brain faltering and short wiring as she traces back to the thought that just processed through her mind.

Did she just think about love? In reference to Brittany?

Does she love Brittany?

_No._

That's ridiculous. They've known each other for a few weeks.

Plus, she doesn't stuff like that, the whole '_feelings_' shenanigan. _Feelings _mess with peoples heads and screw with people's hearts. _Feelings _change people, and not always for the better. _Feelings _are why people end up broken hearted and alone, crying over someone they once wanted with everything they had. Santana and _feelings, _just don't go. They've never worked together before, and they never will, not while she still has a say in it.

"What?" Brittany asks, lowly, her body shifting and fingers flexing in Santana's hair as if she's self-conscious.

"Britt, I..." the words catch in her throat, even if she doesn't know exactly what those words are. She thinks that maybe a question about her previous thoughts was about to come out, or maybe even a stupid declaration about something she's not entirely sure of. She has no idea _what _it was, but she knows it was something important because it's lodged in the bottom of her throat and it's the same damn feeling she gets when she knows something just changed, or is about to change.

Except this time she thinks she might be okay with the change, even if said change is unknown.

"Brittany? Are you home?" They break apart, basically jolting a metre away from each other as Susan makes her way into the foyer; not even the slightest bit surprised by Santana's presence. "Do you not know how to shut the front door, girls?" She jokes, brushing past them and closing it.

Santana sucks in her top lip and tries not to look at Brittany's mom in the eye. She doesn't know why she does it, but she just feels like she should, like she was just caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. Making out with Brittany isn't something she wants Susan to see, but it's not like it's prohibited or anything. To correct her movement, she shuffles a little closer to Brittany until their shoulders are touching. Brittany smiles at her, proudly.

Her heart just melted. _Again._

"Sorry, mom," Brittany pipes up. "Santana and I were just talking."

Brittany's mom leans back against the door and looks at them. "Is that what you youngsters call it these days?"

Santana's face stays the same – used to the little jibes adults give her - but Brittany blushes and ducks her head. Susan grins and pushes off the door, past them and towards the living room.

"Well you can _talk _in here," the older woman continues. "I'm going to bed."

Santana begins to head in the same direction Susan went, but then fingers curl around her arm and cause her to still. She pulls her face into a frown, twists her neck and looks towards the blonde with a quizzical expression; the sudden movement catching her off guard.

"Actually, mom," Brittany calls out to her mother who's disappeared into the living room, her eyes remaining locked with brown ones. "We're gonna go to bed, too."

It's then that she notices the way Brittany's lips are quirking into a devilish smirk. It's then that she notices the way Brittany's eyes are darkening and the mischievous glimmer flashing behind them. It's then that she notices how Brittany's usually innocent expression is turning into something that shoots straight through Santana like lightening; bottoming out low in her belly and spreading a pool of warmth there.

And it's about a second after that, that Santana realizeswhat Brittany's implying.

_Holy shit._

"We are?" Santana asks, her eyes growing wide.

"We are," Brittany replies through a nodding grin, then winks. Santana almost dies right then and there. "But wait here," the blonde leans forward to press her lips to a tanned cheek. "I need to check my room and then I'll be down in a second."

"Uh...Oka-sur-righ-" Santana can't seem to form any coherent word as she stutters out unintelligible noises and unrecognisable words, her mind completely frazzled as it tries to process what Brittany just suggested.

Arousal spreads through her as Brittany turns away and heads up the stairs; purposely swaying her hips a little more than she usually does. Santana swallows thickly, her heart suddenly racing from anticipation and excitement and she's seriously fucking aware of how her muscles are burning with the urge to say _fuck the room _and chase Brittany up the stairs.

Too caught up in a stare, Santana doesn't notice Susan calling her name until the older woman appears in the door with her hands on her hips, not from frustration, but curiosity.

"Santana?"

Snapping her head around faster than the speed of light, Santana locks eyes with faded blue ones and heat rushes to her face from the fear that she was caught. "Uh," she clears her throat and straightens up, subtly tugging down the hem of her shirt just in case she's _showing. _"Yes, Mrs Pierce?"

"Susan, please," the older woman corrects with a smile. "And would you come in here for a moment, please?" She sweeps her hand out towards the kitchen.

Clenching her fists, nails digging into the skin of her palm, Santana nods and then makes her way into the living room slowly; her heart hammering wildly against her chest. She can't seem to stop her hands from shaking as Susan smooths down the back of her skirt and then slinks down gracefully onto the sofa; tapping the cushion next to her to gesture for Santana to sit. She does, nervously, and snaps her thighs together to hide the bulge she knows is pushing up against the flimsy fabric of her boxer shorts. Why the hell didn't she wear the tight ones? _Especially _considering how damn skinny and tight these stupid jeans are.

"Stop panicking, honey," Susan's voice is soft and gentle; nothing like the one Santana heard when they first met. A hand covers her own and she almost yanks her hand away. Not because the touch is unwelcome, but because it wasn't expected. "I'm not here to tell you off or anything."

Santana lets out a nervous chuckle. "Oh, right," she breathes out and sucks in her lips; eyes roaming around the room as Susan returns her own hand to her lap. "So, what is it about?"

"Well, I was just wondering if you and my daughter were dating?"

Caught out by the question (because apparently _all _the Pierces are managing to do that today) Santana jerks her head back and scrunches her brows together. It's not that much of an unexpected question; mostly because the entire way home, with Brittany's hand in hers and eyes stealing shy glances at one another, Santana was asking herself the exact same thing. But coming from Brittany's mom it's a bit strange, considering Susan's never actually seen her and Brittany together; bar the hallway incident a few minutes back.

"Um," Santana wets her lips and glances up once more, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. "I don't really know," she lifts her shoulders in a small shrug. "We might be but..."

"Have you slept with her?"

Santana gasps, eyes widening and throat thickening. "No," she replies immediately. "No, no," she laughs nervously and glances down, head shaking from side to side to emphasize her words. "We haven't had-uh," she hesitates. "I mean, we haven't slept together," she quickly corrects, feeling all the blood rush from the lower half of her body up to her face.

_God, _this is _so _not a conversation she wants to have with Brittany's mom, _especially _considering what Brittany insinuated a few minutes ago. Now she kind of just wants to curl up into a ball in the corner and hide herself.

(At least she's not turned on anymore.)

Susan smiles in a way that says _good. _"And are you in love with her?"

Santana smiles faintly; the question warming her chest as her heart skips a beat. This question doesn't come to that much of a shock, even though it probably should do, but that doesn't mean she knows the answer.

"We've known each other for a couple of weeks, Mrs Pierce," she replies honestly, her eyes darting up to meet blue.

"Call me Susan," the older woman tells her, smiling like she knows something. "And I didn't ask how long you've known each other."

"I know," Santana breathes in. "I just..."

The words trail off just as her eyes do; glancing over the room as she tries to find the right thing to say. Well, actually, to find _anything _to say because right now, she's kind of speechless. She doesn't know the answer to Susan's question, because she's never really considered it. All her life, she's been about the 'no feelings' bullshit, clinging onto it for dear life because the idea of letting someone in and letting herself love someone, is almost unbearable. She's seen the films, she's heard the songs, she's witnessed how people break when they fall in and out of love, and that's something she doesn't want to have to go through.

It's stupid, and naïve, because realistically, there's no way in hell she can live her entire life without feeling _something _for someone, whether that be just romantic feelings, or whether it's love. But she's been trying so damn hard to keep to that, to push herself and see if she _can _prevent herself from feeling anything, that when it's presented to her and asked up front, she just can't reply. No, not can't, but _won't._

She flicks her sight up, meeting blue eyes that she can tell were once as bright and piercing as Brittany's; and she can see the expectancy and that little glint that says _I know the answer, even if you don't, _and Santana's struck with curiosity.

So she replies with the only thing that comes into her mind.

"Why are you asking me these questions?" It's not defensive, nor aggressive, just a plain question that she has the sudden need to know the answer to.

Susan sighs and takes Santana's hand, patting it gently between both of hers. "I know my daughter, Santana. She's a lot of things. Some of them good, and some of them not so good," she stares deeply into brown eyes and Santana feels her heart pounding inside her chest. "And I'm not oblivious to Brittany's... _actions_," Susan dips her head with the word and Santana quickly gets the unspoken meaning behind them. "No mother is, but I can tell when she makes an instant connection with someone, whether that's friendly or not" light brows raise. "And you my dear..." she taps Santana's hand and smiles. "You are not just a friend to her and obviously it's the same for you, too."

"What-," Santana swallows and runs her free hand over her forehead, brushing back a few strands of hair. Her face is prickling with heat like she was just caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "What do you mean?"

"I just mean that we both know about your past," Santana gulps guilty and averts her gaze to the ground. "And the only reason I'm asking these questions is because I want to help you and my daughter along," Susan stares at her like she's trying to say something but doesn't know how. It does nothing to quell the growing curiosity and fear inside of her.

"And seeing as there are certain..." Susan waves her hand around, looking slightly uncomfortable. "_Things _that you two haven't partaken in," Santana finds her face reddening once more, and her mind seriously wishing this conversation wasn't happening _again_. "Then I'm assuming you feel the same way she does."

"The same way she does?" Santana repeats, her lips pinching together and eyes squinting quizzically. "And how does she feel?"

The sound of footsteps echoes through the house and both of them know Brittany's coming down the stairs any moment, so Susan leans in and offers a small smile; obviously not wanting Brittany to hear this specific part of the conversation. Santana too, actually. It's not something that she's exactly proud of, being oo scared to ask Brittany how she feels, so she asks her mother.

"Just look into her eyes, honey," Susan says, patting her hand one final time before releasing it.

Santana doesn't have time to ask _what _or _why _because the older woman stands, running her palms down the front of her skirt and smiling between the two. The words repeat in her mind over and over, like they're stuck on a loop and out the corner of her eye she registers Brittany jumping down the final step of the staircase and bounding into the room - cheeks flushed pink, eyes bright and a few stray strands of blonde hair across her forehead like whatever she'd been doing had been rushed.

A smile tugs at Santana's lips because Brittany's never looked more beautiful.

"Everything alright?" Brittany asks, cautiously, her blue eyes flicking between her mother and Santana.

Susan who smiles sweetly; obviously used to her daughter's curiosity. "Everything's fine, darling," she replies, heading towards Brittany who's standing in the archway between the living room and entrance foyer. "And yes, Santana can stay over."

Brittany chuckles and wraps her mom up in her long arms. "Thanks, mom."

"Thank you, Susan," Santana says – with a double meaning - as she stands and heads towards Brittany; her arm instantly looping around the blonde's waist when she steps away from the hug.

Susan looks towards her and winks. "No problem, Santana."

The older woman makes her way to the bottom of the stairs and begins to climb them, gently waving them goodnight. Santana doesn't hesitate as she turns to Brittany and holds her close, her other hand moving to rest upon the blondes hip and fingers squeezing gently. Blue eyes gleam at her and it rips the breath straight from her chest at the same time Brittany's mom calls her name, switching her attention from the younger blonde to the older one.

"Oh, and remember what I said, Santana," Susan winks before disappearing up the stairs.

As soon as the sound of a door shutting comes down the stairs, Brittany leans in and kisses her, drawing it out until Santana feels the first signs of light headedness creep into her mind. Her fingers flex, curling and tightening a little more around Brittany's hips to ground herself as their lips brush against one another. She hums into the kiss, a tongue making a soft sweep of her lower lip and she receives gratefully, opening her mouth and tilting her head to deepen the kiss.

Needing more contact, Santana slides her hand down Brittany's spine until it reaches the base of her back and presses lightly; pulling their bodies tighter together. Heat spreads between them, and Santana groans into the other girl's lips, her arms moving to circle Brittany's waist and pulling until there's no space between them and Brittany's on her tiptoes; the upper half of her body resting on Santana's. The blonde squeals lightly at being lifted, and they both smile into the kiss; so content to just stand here for the rest of the night, trading soft kisses.

They kiss for long moments, slow and thoughtful, in the centre of the foyer until Brittany nips on Santana's bottom lip and pulls away; feet returning fully to the floor and noses bumping as they both catch their breath.

"Fuck,you're good at that," Santana's voice is low and raspy when she speaks; and she sees the way the other girl's eyelids flutter shut at the tone of it.

Brittany kisses her again. "I've been told," she winks then sticks her tongue out.

"Shut up," Santana rolls her eyes and then presses their lips together, sliding her hands down from Brittany's waist to the V of her hipbones; where she applies a little pressure and feels them roll against her own. The heat builds quickly in her groin once more, and before she knows it they're making out again, shamelessly rocking their hips into each other until Brittany's hand slides between their bodies and grabs at the crotch of Santana's jeans, fingers tracing the outline of her hardening cock.

"_Ungh," _Santana groans and breaks apart, eyes growing wide at the boldness of the other girl's actions. _Seriously, _for someone who isn't exactly an expert in this area, Brittany's doing pretty fucking well. "Britt."

Brittany smiles against her mouth. "Wanna go upstairs?"

She's nodding before she even tells her body to do it, and then Brittany's tugging her up the stairs with a smirk and sparkling blue eyes.

* * *

**Thank you so much for the reviews guys! Always wanting more ;)**


	15. Part Fifteen

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Fifteen]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **9.4k  
**Author's Note:** I met my beta in person the other day, and I didn't think she could be any more awesome than she already was, but I was delightfully proved wrong. In short: she's _dope._ So_ THAAAAAAAAAAAAANK YOUUUUU _(NOT SO) MYSTERIOUS BETAAAAAAAAA! I couldn't do this without you! Big hugs from the team here: Heidi, Bobby and myself! Ye be dearly loved :)

* * *

They stumble into Brittany's room, smiling lips pressed together and hands wandering around each other's body. Santana kicks the door shut, but stills and stops kissing Brittany when the sudden thought of siblings pops into her mind. Brittany stares at her quizzically with swollen lips and flushed hair, her chest heaving up and down from their many minutes of kissing.

"What?" Brittany pants, her thumb stroking over the pulse point in Santana's neck.

Santana pushes Brittany further into the room and kisses her again. "Where's your sister?"

Brittany kisses back, but then pulls away. "At your house," she smiles and pulls them towards the double bed in the centre of the room, visible only because of the dim lamp on the side table. "Why?"

"Thought I might have just woken her up," Santana says against the other girl's lips; the majority of their conversation passing between the minuscule space between their mouths.

"Nope, we're good," Brittany continues to kiss her and her hands slide down to grip at the blondes ass, tugging their hips together and feeling the heat radiating from the apex of the other girl's thighs. Her hips jut up in reaction and a moan vibrates into her mouth.

"Good, good," Santana grins into the kiss and then drift up to wrap her fingers around the hem of Brittany's top, lifting until her fingers can span out and touch hot skin. Her entire body shivers at the touch, and she feels Brittany smile against her mouth, moving her own hands down to the belt loops in Santana's jeans and hooking her thumbs through there so she can rock her hips into Santana's.

It gets hotter a hell of a lot quicker when a sudden rush of confidence surges over Santana and she slides her hands underneath Brittany's shirt, over her ribs and lingering at the curve of her bra. This is something she's good at. The whole dating and feeling thing? Not so much. But this, showing a girl a good time and being able to please her? _Yeah_, she can definitely do that.

Except when Brittany wraps her arms around her neck, and pulls them so close together Santana can feel the other girl's eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as they kiss; she realizes just _how_ different this is. Different from every other hook up she's ever had because this isn't a hook up. This is pretty much the farthest that she's ever been from a freaking hook up. Because whether she likes it or accepts it or whatever, she does feel something for Brittany. She feels something beyond the realms of friendship and fuckship or whatever the hell it's called because she fucking _likes_ Brittany.

Like, _romantically_. With feelings.

Her fingers pause from where they're edging underneath the ledge of Brittany's bra and her kisses slow down until it's all lips and only quick, gentle flicks of the tongue. She creates a pace that's both comfortable and hot; because now that she's here, in Brittany's bedroom, kissing Brittany and edging second base with her, she can just marvel in the fact that all of that is actually happening. And not even in her dreams.

They break the kiss, Santana opening her eyes to dark, sizzling blue that send a shiver through her body. A flush of heat scorches across her body as Brittany's hands slip from her neck, down between her breasts, over her abs which twitch at the touch, and then stop when they bump against the band of Santana's jeans. She sucks in a sharp gasp, her eyes flickering down between their bodies as slender fingers tease along the width, dipping in only slightly; causing her breath to alter erratically and turn into heavy pants. The urge to rut her hips up almost gets too much, so she nudges Brittany's face up again and kisses her; long and slow, dragging each stroke of her tongue out and tracing the contours of the other girl's mouth like it's the last thing she'll ever do.

She tries to keep kissing Brittany, but it gets sloppy when her mind goes into overload because the fingers on her jeans slip down and pop open the button; releasing some of the pressure built up from her stiffening member pressing against the fabric. Teeth nip at her lower lip, grabbing a gentle hold and pulling it back; the flesh slapping back and being soothed over by a sweep of Brittany's tongue.

Her body goes into overdrive and the arousal multiplies inside of her as she pushes them further into the room whilst fingers slide into her jeans, and take a firm hold of her. Her hips jerk at the first touch, mouth pulling away from Brittany's as her eyes grow wide. She swallows audibly and looks into blue eyes, staring back at her in a way that makes her dick grow twice it's size.

"Where's-" she's breathing heavily as Brittany massages her cock gently, moving in circular motions.

_Seriously, _she's kind of having a hard time believing this girl's a virgin at the moment. She's been with plenty of virgins – she went through a phase – and _none _of them were as confident as Brittany's being now. Then again, nothing has kept in the realms of normalcy in reference to the blonde so it shouldn't be that much of a surprise. But still, she doesn't want to rush Brittany. The first time is always a big deal, and it should be for Brittany, so the least she can offer is a lot of TLC.

"_Fuck, _Brittany," she gasps out, her eyes clenching shut as she rolls her hips into Brittany's hand which is rubbing expertly; pinching lightly at the base and stroking her thumb over the clothed tip of her dick. Her hand falls to Brittany's hip, itching with the eagerness to return the favour being given and slides down to Brittany's shorts; where she fumbles with the button and pops open. She brings their mouths back together, not hesitating to brush her tongue into the other girl's mouth and stroking softly, whilst the hand in her hair scratches lightly at her scalp.

Brittany groans and ruts her hips into Santana's as soon as her fingertips delve into hot flesh, sliding and spreading through the arousal there. Knowing Brittany's mom is _somewhere _in the house, Santana kisses her harder, muffling the sound of groaning because the hand rubbing outside her boxers just slipped inside to touch her hard member.

She pulls away, breathless, her eyes flicking between blue orbs and swollen pink lips. "Sssh," she whispers, rotating her wrist and rolling the pads of her fingers over Brittany's clit. That probably _didn't _help in keeping quiet. "Your mom..."

"Are you-" Brittany squeezes her eyes shut in response, but then steps back and pushes them apart; breaking all intimate contact. Santana grunts in protest but the blonde just sends a smirk and her mouth snap shuts once more; suddenly willing to give Brittany the lead in the dance that only she knows well.

"Are you seriously going to talk about my mom right now?" The blonde asks rhetorically, fingers curling around the hem of her own shirt and lifting it, whipping the fabric off in one swift motion and leaving her in her tank top.

Intercepting the next movement, Santana stares into blue eyes and then as if she actually said it, Brittany lifts her arms into the air (like a child would do) and grins; awaiting the movement. More than willing to oblige, Santana plucks the hem of the other girl's tank top – which is almost distractingly tight – and slowly rolls it up; over Brittany's stomach and tight abs. The breath catches in her throat as she follows the movement of the fabric, eyes lingering up the exposed skin of Brittany's stomach and then further up as she peels the top up and over her shoulders; until she can drop it to the floor beside her.

Brittany's skin is so damn smooth and creamy that Santana finds herself itching with the need to touch it; to just run her fingers over a patch and shiver underneath the touch. But then she realizes she doesn't have too, because Brittany's done it for her; moved her hand until it's pressed against the taut abs that twitch underneath her fingertips. She inhales sharply through her nose, shocked by just how damn soft the skin is and the shifts her vision to stare at Brittany; finding herself dazed by the sight before her. Because Brittany's hair is falling wildly around her shoulders, slightly tousled from the removal of her clothing and her eyes are sparkling and twinkling in a way that makes Santana's head tilt and a breathy sigh escape her lips.

"Santana," Brittany brings her back to the room with the call of her name.

Snapping her eyes up to blue, Santana grins and can't quite believe that something _that _perfect is hers. Well, she thinks so anyway.

"Sorry," she tells her; a faint smiling creeping upon her lips. "You're just really beautiful."

Brittany smiles softly; something which shouldn't look _that _innocent considering her hand is working it's way up the centre of Santana's chest, unbuttoning the shirt wrapped around her torso. "You're a sap," she teases, pulling apart the final button and pressing their lips together quickly. "You know that right?"

"Well I do _now_," Santana replies playfully, licking her lips and dropping her arms beside her so the shirt falls off her shoulders; pooling at the back of her ankles. "You've only got yourself to blame," a faint smile adorns her lips.

Blue eyes trace up the length of her body and then a finger follows it; curving along the outline of her abs, defined from years of Coach Sue's intense cheerleading workouts. Guess she doesn't have to worry about that anymore, though.

She shakes the thought from her mind, really _not _wanting Sue Sylvester in her mind whilst Brittany's standing here half naked, and kisses the blonde again; tongue stroking past lips and over another. Hands grabbing at hips, Santana pulls them close together until their hot skin is pressed tightly together and a simultaneous groan merges into one where their lips meet.

"Bed," Brittany whispers, tugging at Santana's biceps until they stumble backwards – still pressed together and still kissing – until they come to a halt at the side of the bed. They break from the kiss, all heavy breathing and swollen lips, and Santana doesn't waste any time in gliding her hands down the other girl's waist, hips and ass, curving around until she can slip her hand underneath the short skirt covering never-ending legs and the thin layer of Brittany's-

"Damn, Britt," Santana's eyes widen. "Are you even wearing any underwear?" She smirks and flexes her fingers against the flesh of Brittany's ass to emphasize her word.

"Yes," Brittany's reply is fast; but her grin is wide and teasing. "Just not a lot."

Santana groans and then kisses the other girl again; moving her hands from underneath the fabric of the skirt up the waistband where she slips her fingers between the thin layers and fumbles with the button. It pops open with a quick flick, and she feels Brittany's fingers tighten from where they're tangled in her hair as she urges them down long, smooth legs; grazing her nails lightly.

Pulling away, she puts a bit of space between their bodies; allowing her eyes to do a full length trail of Brittany in underwear. Because, well, Brittany in general is something to look at; but _this? _Brittany in barely-there purple laced underwear, swollen lips, wide, dark eyes and golden hair tumbling down over her shoulders... _This _is just mind-blowing.

"Wow," she blinks once, twice, then breathes in deeply; smelling nothing but the intoxicating scent which is Brittany. Her mind wanders. Back to the time when all she wanted to do was basically rag and tag Brittany. Get that one done and dusted and throw her back into the pile with the rest of them. Then this things happens and suddenly she's standing in Brittany's bedroom, staring at her and wanting to just fucking _cuddle _and _kiss _her like her life depends on it.

Right now, she's pretty sure she'd be content with just holding Brittany for the night.

But that's until fingers hook into the loops in her belt and all thoughts sort of just shoot out her mind as warm lips cover her own; shifting to suck gently at her lower lip. Her eyes roll back into her head - almost disappearing there – when Brittany pulls way too soon and Santana's bottom lip is left jutting out slightly, into a small pout. She opens her jaw a little, ready to protest, when Brittany drops into a crouch and swiftly tugs down at Santana's jeans, smirking up at her when she sees the large bulge that's clearly present in her boxers.

Santana rolls her eyes, trying not to blush as she steps out the jeans pooled by her feet. "Shut up," she says, tugging Brittany up and bringing their lips back together; one hand cradling the hinge of the blonde's jaw and the other gripping at her hip. She kisses her slowly. Drawing out each brush of her lips because kissing Brittany is just incredible.

It's like the first breath of the fresh air on a Summer's day. It's like hearing someone laugh for the first time in years. Or lying on your back and staring up at the night sky, seeing all the planets and stars stare down at you, where they twinkle delicately and brightly in the black canvas.

Kissing Brittany is just... _beautiful._

And she doesn't want to ruin this beauty. Not for anything. So she's got to take great care in every step she takes.

"Sit down," she demands, softly when they break the kiss; knowing she should probably take the lead as she knows what first times can be like. Brittany obliges, shuffling backward and sitting on the side of the bed, fingers instantly dropping to the waistband of Santana's boxers, tugging lightly. The breath lodges inside her throat, staring down at the blonde, so eager to do this.

"Can I?" Brittany asks, a little _too _innocently considering the boxers are half-way down Santana's ass already.

Santana bites her bottom lip, nervous not only for herself but for Brittany too. Right now, she doesn't know the extent of Brittany's experience, but judging by the way the blonde stuck her hand down Santana's boxers, she's thinking that maybe handjob is on the checked off list... But other things? She's not so sure. Virgin, for sure, but other things, Santana can't be too sure about.

"Yeah," she nods too and swallows, reaching up to comb her fingers through blonde locks as the fabric around her hips is pulled down. As soon as her cock bounces out of its confinement, and lingers only inches away from Brittany's face, her muscles tense a little and eyes snap shut because her stiff member is so hot compared to the air around them. A hand wraps around her right thigh, near the top and begins to put pressure on it a little to relax Santana; and it totally works. Letting out a sigh, she cracks open her eyes and groans at the sheer amazement etched across Brittany's features.

Not to have her head stuck up her own ass or anything, but she knows she's a decent size. Seven and a half inches erect, five flaccid. Only a bit bigger than the average size, but still pretty impressive, as she's been told. She likes it, and judging by the many orgasms she's induced, she guesses other girls like it too.

"You're big," Brittany breathes, her voice low and raspy like she hasn't spoken for days.

Biting on her bottom lip, Santana closes her eyes when she feels cool fingers wrap around her shaft, stroking her languidly from base to head and back. She swears she's growing more and more as Brittany touches her, but she knows she can't focus on how good she's feeling because what's worse than the first time having sex, is having your first time last for a few seconds because the other person couldn't hold make it last due to excitement or nerves. The first time having sex is supposed to be special, and the memory should be cherished and remembered for the rest of the person's life; and there's no way in hell Santana's going to make Brittany's first time memorable for all the wrong reasons.

"Britt," Santana says, quietly; before clearing her throat and gliding down Brittany's face until she can cradle her chin and tilt it up. Eyes lock and breaths are taken away as they stare at each other.

"Lie down," she continues, wincing at the loss of Brittany's contact when fingers unwrap from around her shaft.

She waits patiently, watching as the blonde shuffles up the bed and lays down, one leg lifting into a bend and hitching up against the other as it lays flat on the comforter. Brittany's blonde hair splays across the white of the pillow like a halo, framing her face perfectly and making her eyes seem darker than ever before. A smirk curls at her lips, eyes narrowing slightly as she runs the flats of her palms across the comforter beside her; like a snow angel, but without the snow.

Licking her lips, and gripping her dick with her own hand, she begins to stroke; making herself even harder than before as she reaches around with the other hand to unsnap her own bra. Now, with everything bare, she feels a little nervous. Except she knows she _can't _be the nervous one. Not whilst she's about to take Brittany's virginity. It's almost like a rule of thumb that she has to be sexually confident now because Brittany can't be.

Brittany's eyes grow wide when the bra falls from around Santana's chest, revealing her caramel breasts and pert nipples a shade darker than her skin. It's a little weird, because usually she's the one who's naked last; always itching to get it over and done with because most of the time, she didn't even have to be naked, just revealed enough so she could spread the girl's legs and bury herself in hilt deep. Even if that meant an open zipper on a pair of her jeans. Uncomfortable, but quick.

"Come here," Brittany beckons her, softly, reaching into the air and curling her finger to call Santana towards her.

Santana does as she's told, pressing one knee into the mattress, still stroking herself with her left hand, and moves up the bed until she's next to Brittany. With her free one, she runs her palms over Brittany's stomach; feeling it twitch beneath her touch and she can't help the sigh and the smile that overcome her at the same time. Brittany shudders, clamping her thighs together and Santana can feel the nerves radiating off the girl as she releases her hard cock and twists to lean on her side, pressing up until the tip of her bumps into Brittany's hip. They both groan at the contact.

"You can turn to me..." she offers, gently. Not wanting to say or do anything too rash. "If you want."

Brittany smiles to her, and her hand covers Santana's on her stomach, sliding it around to her waist where tanned fingers splay across the skin there. Santana lets out a small groan, eyes closing as she tries to wish away the throb in her cock; aching to be touched. The bed shuffles and a second later the blonde is facing her, noses touching and bodies positioned in the centre of the bed, cream hands resting underneath a cream chin, and tanned hands gripping at a hip and a forearm, tugging away the protective arm-cross.

"Relax," Santana says, leaning forward to kiss Brittany softly as her hand slides over the girl's hip, then up her spine until her fingertips bump against a metal clasp. With a quick flick of her fingers, it comes loose and then she takes away the material, sliding the straps down Brittany's arms and until she can throw the bra behind her into the room. Her eyes immediately dart down to perfect pale breasts, the skin almost glowing in the dim light of the room and she finds herself unable to function properly because just as she previously thought, Brittany's fucking beautiful.

And in the old fashioned way, too. When beautiful used to mean natural beauty with no make up and no body alterations or plastic surgery. Beautiful in the way that Brittany doesn't need tons of make-up to be beautiful; nor does she need a fake tan and a push up bra.

Brittany doesn't need anything to be beautiful; beauty is just within her.

"Are you going to stare all night?" Brittany asks, with playfulness in her tone. "Beause if you are I'm going to have to do this myself," she winks and slips her hand down her own stomach, flicking her finger against the edge of her panties and snapping it against her skin.

… And Santana's brain short circuits.

"Hell no," she grins and then slides her hand down Brittany's body and legs as far as she can reach (nudging Brittany's hand out of the way too) before making her way back up until her fingers curve inwards at the apex of Brittany's thighs, the skin growing hotter as it moves up and up.

"You are _not _doing this yourself," she tries to keep her voice steady because she needs to exert confidence, but it's kind of hard when the dampness of the fabric sticks to her fingers. "It'll be _my _pleasure."

"Mine too," Brittany's voice is soft and serious, and Santana's eyelids flutter as the tone wavers through her ears and shoots down her spine; making her hips buck forward and cock poke into Brittany's stomach.

"Easy there," Brittany teases, leaning forward to press their lips together as Santana slips her fingers underneath the front of the other girl's thong, skimming through slick heat and moaning into Brittany's mouth. She switches the kiss, taking control of it as she strokes deeply into her mouth, tasting nothing but the sweetness of strawberries and cream and the warmth of a fireplace. It's a perfect balance and just so _Brittany. _Perfection in a kiss.

Her fingers stroke along Brittany's folds, lingering at the top to circle the bundle of nerves slowly. She can feel each twitch and jerk of Brittany's body against her own and feels thighs clamp around her hand as she dips lower, applying a little pressure when the heat sinks further down her fingers. Hesitation burns through her, and she breathes in and out deeply, calming herself because she has to calm Brittany too.

A tiny strike of panic surges through her when she dips her fingers in a little more, opening her mouth further against Brittany's and feeling her tongue being caressed by another and she waits for Brittany to react. A slight tightening on her hand and a slip of the tongue against her own and the panic strikes again. So she quickly diverts; retracting her fingers and hooking them around the thin fabric of the panties and yanking down long, smooth legs until she can't reach any further and trusts the blonde to finish the removal of clothing. Brittany does, and then they're both naked.

And Santana's _incredibly _aware of this, and the rapid beat of her heart against Brittany's as she pulls away enough for a breath of air; sparing a quick glance into deep blue eyes to make sure there's no resistance, fear or hesitation, because, usually, with virgins there always is, it being their first time and everything.

But as always, Brittany seems to surprise her when there's nothing but excitement and adoration beaming out those sparkling orbs. Santana can't stop herself when she offers the girl a shy smile – an affectionate one though – and nudges their noses together until their lips are brushing over each other again in a barely there kiss.

"Lean back on the bed," she instructs as she returns her hand between Brittany's thighs and runs her fingers across wet heat once more; holding back the groan that threatens to escape her lips.

Brittany moves until her back is on the comforter and Santana's propped up on one elbow, her throbbing erection pressing up against a pale hip and her ankle hooking against Brittany's; tugging to part long legs a little further. With the arm propping her up, she stretches out her fingers to run along the ledge of Brittany's cheekbone whilst her other hand dips back into her folds, stroking gently and circling her entrance whilst a thumb wanders up to circle Brittany's clit slowly.

Blue eyes flutter, and Santana leans in to press her lips against the skin of Brittany's shoulder as she sinks a single digit into Brittany; rocking her hips up simultaneously because she needs a release of her own. Heat rushes through her, and she keeps her lips to Brittany's skin to ensure she's not going to moan and move quickly, especially with this wonderful warmth engulfing her entire index finger and small hums of appreciation coming from the blonde, subconsciously spurring her on as she begins to thrust her finger in and out of Brittany; stroking and curling it just as the right spot.

Brittany's back bows, head pressing into the pillow as one of her own hands comes up to tweak at her own nipple. The image shoots straight to Santana's groin and she begins to move her hips; her hard cock rubbing up against Brittany's hip as she gains a release of her own.

"More," Brittany groans out as Santana begins to move her finger faster, pressing in a little harder and then taking out slowly until her finger almost comes out the entire way. Taken by surprise, she obliges and on the next movement, adds another finger; this time not bothering to hide the groan as she pulls her neck back in time to see Brittany throw her head back in pleasure at the addition. Stamina is taking a major hit at the moment, because she's pretty sure she could just blow her load by watching Brittany get off; but there's something built inside of her that needs more, and knows that Brittany needs more too.

"_Fuck,_ Santana..." Brittany rolls her head on the pillow and squeezes her eyes shut; cheeks flushing harder and fingers pinching at her own nipple as Santana rolls her thumb against her clit with every other stroke. "I need..."

Santana gets it. She bites her lip and watches Brittany for a few seconds because she fucking gets it. Brittany wants her; wants her inside of her, and that fucking thought almost makes her come. _Fuck _the stamina, she thinks, as she slows her thrusts until a stop; pausing a second before pulling out to curl her fingers expertly and hit _the _spot that she's spent years finding on other girls.

(She thinks that maybe being with all those girls has finally become a good thing.)

Hands grip around her bicep, and she's shaken from her thoughts as she drags her fingers out and rolls on top of Brittany, wiggling her hips gently to sink between strong thighs. A gasp escapes her mouth and her eyes grow wide when the tip of her dick bumps against the apex of Brittany's thighs, finding wet heat that makes her eyes want to roll into the back of her mind.

She brings one hand up to rest against Brittany's forehead, stroking back the hair already sticking to her forehead. The other one moves down to grip herself, rubbing her hand lightly as she leaves a trail of kisses up the expanse of Brittany's neck, pausing at the spot behind her ear to suck lightly. Brittany tightens her grip on Santana's bicep, her nails biting the flesh and then soothing with a quick swipe of her finger pads, as she presses the back of her head harder into the pillow, leaving more room for full lips.

Santana takes full advantage, listening to the thumping of Brittany's heart against her own where their chests are mashed together, and feeling the pulse throb beneath her lips as she pokes her tongue out and flicks along the skin, tasting a little salt and then the sweetness of Brittany. She swears her mind wavers with dizziness for three seconds.

Full of purpose, she tilts her hips up, and runs the tip of her dick through Brittany's centre, feeling a quiver come from the body beneath. She repeats, pausing at the top to nudge lightly at the other girl's clit; gasping when Brittany gasps and tenses a little underneath her. But her kisses continue, following a brand new path along protruding collarbones and up the column of Brittany's throat, along her jaw and stopping to brush her lips over her chin until Brittany moves down the rest of the way to capture Santana's lips.

"Just..." Brittany pants against her mouth, pausing to kiss her deeply again; wasting no time in tangling their tongues and caressing lightly. She pulls part, head falling back onto the pillow as Santana shifts up a little more to look at the blonde properly, knowing she's about a few seconds away from behind inside the girl.

Again, that thought _really _didn't help with the stamina thing.

"Just what, Britt?" She stops stroking herself and running herself over Brittany as she speaks. It's hard enough being in this close of a proximity of the girl and talking to her, but doing _that _whilst trying to talk... _Impossible._

Brittany's eyes open and stare deeply into brown. "Inside," she gets out, reaching down to grip at Santana; thumb flicking over the tip of her dick. "Please."

Santana nods, but makes no further attempt to move despite Brittany's chest heaving in and out rapidly; her tongue poking out to swipe at her lips every few seconds that are quickly drying. Instead, she just watches, waits and tries to find that something that says _'I don't want to do this' _inside blue eyes because the last thing she wants to do – including getting blue balled herself – is to pressure Brittany into something. She doesn't want to do it if there's even the slightest hesitation or fear.

She can't have Brittany regretting her first time, or the fact that it was with _her._

"Santana," Brittany cradles her cheek and strokes her thumb over the skin there. "I _want _to do this," she breathes, eyes hooded but honest.

The nerves getting the better of her, Santana drops her head to kiss Brittany; hoping it'll steady her quaking body. She knows how ridiculous it is considering the amount of girls she's been with, but Brittany so damn different that she's practically scared of even touching the girl, let alone hurting her. What if she injures Brittany?

"I'll be gentle," she mutters against swollen pink lips, eyes opening until all she can see is blue. "But you have to tell me if I'm hurting you," she begs, feeling her heart clench at the thought. "You _have _to."

It's one of those moments where she's supposed to hear Brittany say '_yes of course' _or '_I trust you.' _Something remotely reassuring so that it quells her nerves as well as Brittany's. But the response she gets is nowhere _near _the one she was expecting to receive.

"Why would it hurt?"

Santana pulls her head back, pausing when she looks into blue eyes because Brittany's not stupid. Far from it, actually. So she should know the reason for the reassuring line that she spoke a few seconds ago. She should know and not have Santana fucking explain it. Which is exactly what Santana would say if it wasn't for the narrowed eyes, the stilling Brittany's movement and the way her head is tilted to the side like she's genuinely confused.

_Oh, God. _Santana's _actually_ going to have to _explain_ it.

She shuffles, leaning most of her body weight onto Brittany's as she finds the right words inside of her mind to say. On one hand, she doesn't want Brittany to feel stupid, and embarrassed, because that would totally ruin the vibe – and if they went through with it, despite the destroyed atmosphere, Brittany would always think back to her first time as the one where Santana had to explain why it would hurt.

Not exactly the best memory.

"Britt," she sucks her lips into her mouth and clenches her eyes shut for a few seconds; opening them right back open again. "The first time for a girl is always a little pai-"

Before the sentence can even be finished, Brittany's lips are tugging up at the side and her brows are raising like she can't quite believe Santana just said that. The blonde worries her bottom lip between her teeth; trying to hide the smile but failing horribly as her features just twist into a strange expression that Santana can't quite read.

"What?" She asks, self-consciously, because Brittany's been staring at her for like half a minute with the same damn half-amused expression and been dead silent the entire time. It's starting to make her feel a little uneasy.

"Santana," Brittany clears her her throat and smiles softly. "I'm not a virgin."

Santana's head jerks back so fast she swears it was momentarily suspended from her neck. "What!" She asks, her voice scaling up into a high pitch that makes her teeth grit and face wince.

Brittany seems amused. "I'm not a virgin..." she repeats like it's pretty obvious.

This is seriously not happening the way she expected. Now, she's propped up on her forearms above Brittany, staring down at her like she just saw a chicken _actually _cross a road with her mouth agape and eyes wide. She can feel the arousal still pooling low in her belly, and the way her dick throbs impatiently every few seconds or so; begging for some type of release... But she's so shocked by what she just heard that continuing her actions has sort of slipped her mind.

"You've had sex?" Santana asks, her lip curling up with confusion. "Like, _sex _sex?"

"Yeah..." Brittany replies dumbly, her face growing more and more amused by the second. "I've had _sex _sex."

"But..."

The words trail off in Santana's mind as she thinks of all the pointers that lead her to this conclusion. Sure, they've had super hot make out sessions on several occasions; and been grinding up and down on each other like the hormonal teenagers they are... But she kind of just assumed that seeing as Brittany never made a move to go any further – nor did she give off the vibe that she wanted Santana to initiate anything... But then again, the same could be said for Santana.

A hand cups her cheek, snapping herself from the thoughts before she can answer her very own question. The blur fades from her eyes as she blinks a few times and returns to lock eyes with deep blue ones, seeing the quizzical stare being sent her way.

"But, what?" Brittany asks, and Santana shuffles, sitting back on her calves between long legs to stare at her as she tries to get her thoughts together. Her body stings as the cool air hits her hot skin; which was pressed against Brittany's a second ago and she lets her shoulders slump a little. What is she trying to say? She's speechless... But she doesn't exactly know why. Is it a shock that Brittany's _not _a virgin? Yeah. She just doesn't really know why. Maybe it's because Brittany just hangs around all those Glee kids all the ti-

_Oh, _wait...

"You're in Glee..." Santana finally lands on, tilting her head to the side as the words spill from her mouth slowly. Almost like she's speaking in another language.

A fair eyebrow cocks, and a second later, Brittany sits up; one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of dark hair behind a tanned ear, whilst the other drops down to grab at Santana, stroking with intent. Her eyes gleam in the dim light of the room, but her face is glowing with so much happiness and amusement that it almost makes Santana topple off the side of the bed. Not to mention her hand slowly working on Santana's cock is doing a pretty good job of making her almost fall off the bed too.

"Glee club isn't full of virgins, you know," Brittany mumbles as her lips press against the column of Santana's throat.

It takes a few good seconds for her to process what Brittany just said, because, _well, _Brittany has her fucking hand around her cock and her lips pressed to her neck, so listening is something she's seriously struggling to do right now, _especially _when a thumb traces a smooth line over the tip of her member, making her hips twitch and the arousal to explode and send a rush of heat over her skin.

But when she _finally _manages to take control of her thoughts again, and still her hands from where they are running up Brittany's slit; her jaw drops open and then she's shocked all over again.

"Seriously?" Her voice is raspy like she hasn't spoken for a while. "They're _not _all virgins?"

Brittany chuckles, dropping her forehead to where her lips just were. "No, Santana. Definitely not."

Santana stills. The words play through her mind and she feels a surge of panic rush through her. She blinks, once, twice, whilst she feels Brittany slide lower and lower down her chest, lips wrapping around her nipple and sucking gently. In reaction, her fingers begin the motion again but her mind still isn't completely in it.

The only way she's going to be able to continue is if she asks this stupid question roaming around in her mind.

"Did you-" she gulps against a thickening throat and squeezes her eyes shut. Thankful that Brittany isn't eye level with her right now. "I mean, have you..." she shakes her head, but only lightly. "Have you been with any of them?"

The lips peppering soft kisses around her breast pause and Brittany pulls back, brows furrowing together. Her hand continues to work it's way up and down Santana, though, gripping a little tighter at the base. But needing to focus on the situation, Santana brings her hand over Brittany's and stills the movement; seriously hating herself for doing so. It doesn't quell the arousal coursing through her though, because _really? _Brittany's still butt naked in front of her. There's no way in hell _anything _could ruin how she feels right now.

However, there's still that sting of hesitation of whether or not Brittany's been with anyone else at school that makes her feel a little uneasy. Sure, she's been chasing the blonde around and lusting after her, as _well _as being Gossip Central at McKinley, which technically means that she _should _know whether or not Brittany's slept with anyone at school _but_ she doesn't. And she thinks that maybe it's the unknown that's scaring her.

She doesn't even realize that Brittany hasn't replied until she feels herself being twisted and pushed back, her legs unfolding beneath her until she's laying down with her head on the pillows. It only takes a few seconds more for knees to dig into the comforter beside her hips, and then Brittany's straddling her, leaning down to kiss her slowly and softly.

They both pull away simultaneously, gasping for air and gazing at each other. Santana with hope in her eyes and Brittany with reassurance.

"No," Brittany mutters, lowly. Her tongue poking out to wet her lips. "I haven't slept with any of them. But I'm not a virgin," she pauses to kiss Santana but then pulls away again, one eyebrow slightly arched and one hand sliding down Santana's body to grip at her, whilst the knuckles of the other skim across a tanned cheek. "Is that okay?"

Santana drops her hands to Brittany's thighs and begins stroking upwards, fingers flexing against the skin every now and then. A small smile tugs at her lips as she looks down and then up through her lashes.

"Yeah, that's more than okay," she says through a nod before grinning and crushes their lips back together; taking no care to push past lips and tangle their tongues together, sensually massaging over Brittany's with her own.

A moan vibrates into her mouth as the hand on her cock unwraps and disappears. She doesn't know what's going on, but just hears the sound of a drawer opening and a little banging as she inhales through her nose and tilts her head to deepen the kiss even more. Her mind revels in the taste of Brittany on her tongue and the feel of Brittany's skin beneath her palms.

A crinkling rings through her ears, and she breaks the kiss, dazed. Glancing down, she sees a golden wrapper between slender fingers and then snaps her gaze up to find a smirking face and dark blue eyes; full of arousal. Her mouth dries and throat thickens and anticipation burns through her.

"How did I ever think you were a virgin?" Santana grins she watches the wrapper being slowly torn apart between delicate fingers. "Seriously," she licks her lips and feels her breathing pick up. "How?"

Brittany chuckles and presses their lips together as she lowers the condom and rolls it over the tip of Santana's hard cock and down the shaft. Santana's hips jerk in response, it's natural she can't help it, and she hikes Brittany's leg further up her body so she can line up her member between slick folds, the tip hovering over a Brittany's entrance. The heat she feels against her skin is almost too much for her to handle.

Her stamina is taking a _serious _hit now.

"I don't know," Brittany reasons. "But I'm pretty sure _this _will convince you I'm not."

Santana's brows only pull together for a split second in confusion before she feels herself being guided into a slick heat as Brittany sinks down on her. It sucks the breath straight from her lungs and she arches her neck, digging the back of her head into the pillow as her hands grip at Brittany's hips and fingers dig into the skin. She takes a few shallow breaths to try and steady herself, as the warmth she feels around her is so fucking amazing that there's no way in hell she can last long.

Although judging by Brittany's squeak, she won't be lasting long, either.

"_Fuck, _Britt-" Santana groans as Brittany's ass cheeks press flush against her thighs and her entire cock is swallowed by the fucking _incredible _wet suction. She slides her palms over Brittany's back and down until her fingers can squeeze against the flesh of the other girl's ass, wanting her to move but also wanting this pleasure to last for just a little longer. It's just so fucking amazing she doesn't want it to disappear, even if she knows what's coming next is even better.

Just being inside Brittany for a few seconds is already pushing her to the edge.

Brittany leans down, palms pressing into the pillow beside dark locks and then lips press against lips as she begins to roll her hips expertly. Working all the right places of Santana's cock as Santana just lays there, trying not to give into the need to be in control. After all, Brittany's supposed to be showing _her. _And so far, so fucking good – so there's definitely no hesitations. It's just strange because usually she's the one in control.

"_Mhmm..._" Santana hums as her tongue delves into Brittany's mouth, and the blonde begins to move a little faster. Santana breaks the kiss, feeling her breath grow shallower as she spreads her legs and begins to move into every roll of Brittany's hips, aiding them in coming simultaneously. The hands beside her head become forearms, and breasts press against her own as she begins to pepper kisses across Brittany's face; feeling it scrunching beneath her lips.

She can feel the pressure building inside of her and closes her eyes, sucks in her lips and just enjoys the feeling of this, of connecting with Brittany on this level because it's the only level left. All of the emotional and physical connections have been built, and Santana knows that this is only going to bring them closer.

Sliding a hand between their bodies, she grazes her nails over the skin of Brittany's abs lightly and bites on her bottom lip as they twitch beneath her. Unintentionally, she presses down, feeling herself deep inside of Brittany as their hips move together and both of them groan in sync. Knowing that Susan is somewhere in the house, she kisses Brittany again; but quickly contradicts her movement by slipping her hand further down until the pads of her fingers find Brittany's clit. She pushes down lightly, moving them around in a circular motion as her hips roll experimentally; feeling herself shift inside of her and hit _that _spot.

"_S'ntana_!" Brittany stutters her name and then picks up the pace, grinding down harder and riding just that little faster. A guttural sound is formed from the bottom of Santana's throat as they rock together, and she feels the warmth disappear from the base of her shaft as she slides in and out of Brittany quicker and quicker. The pace is too quick for them to kiss properly, so Santana keeps one hand gripping at her ass and brings the other to her cheek to steady slightly; allowing their lips to barely brush but the bows of them to touch as they match each other, thrust for thrust.

The coil winds tighter and tighter, like a string on a guitar as it's tuned and as Brittany's breathing becomes hot and heavy on her lips, she takes the reigns and aids them both on their way to their euphoric endings. She rocks her hips up, then grinds a little in slow circles as her fingers roll over Brittany's clit; applying a little more pressure because she can feel the muscles clenching around her in waves.

Sensing the exertion taking a toll on Brittany, Santana slips one hand from between the other girl's thighs and rounds them over smooth skin, heading for the curve where Brittany's thighs and ass meets. She sucks in a large gulp of air, knowing that flipping them will disturb their rhythm and prepares herself to lift. But before her fingers can even cup the piece of skin she's heading for, fingers curl around her wrists and then snaps them above her head.

"_Jesus Christ," _she inhales the words sharply as her eyes grow wide in surprise when Brittany slowly grinds down on her.

It shouldn't really shock her, because she already knows Brittany isn't a virgin... But to be so in control? To the point where she's pinning Santana's arms above her head to keep control? _Damn. _

Brittany doesn't respond, just smirks down at Santana and all she can think is how fucking hot being dominated is. _No, _that's not right. All she can think is how fucking hot it is to be dominated by _Brittany. _

Brittany leans down and presses their lips together sloppily as her hips jerk up and then down on Santana, who bucks and pushes as far into the blonde as she can as the elastic band low in her belly, snaps. The grip around her wrist loosens as the pace picks up, and she moves her hands, instantly finding Brittany's clit, rubbing softly until they're both toppling over the ledge in sync; falling hard as their lips part and Santana hears her name tumble from Brittany's lips, causing pleasure to punch through her as the blonde spasms above her.

A low, guttural groan comes from one of them – she doesn't know who – and sharp spikes of pleasure bloom all over her skin; from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Cradling Brittany above her, and feeling her back bow from the intensity of her orgasm, she pours out everything she has into the condom; feeling her entire body flush with heat, arousal and relief at the same time as hands desperately clutch at her shoulders – her hands taking residence on a trim waist. She snaps her eyes open, fingers digging into pale skin and a grunt pushing from within her when the sight before her becomes known. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips and closed eyes are right there, making Brittany seem so fucking hot that Santana thinks she might still be coming. Brittany's lips are parted and a drawn out _'uh' _escapes them; and Santana can't help but just stare in awe.

The way Brittany looks right now... _God. _Santana just can't think of anything more beautiful than this.

She waits until Brittany's body stops quaking above her, her eyes completely focused on the way the pleasure flashes across her face. Slowly, as Brittany's hips stop rolling and her body collapses, Santana finally gets a grip on herself; feeling the light sheen of sweat coating her skin and how her hair's sticking to the base of her neck. Both of their breathing is irregular and ragged, and as Santana licks her lips, trying to moisten them even a little; she can't help but smile.

It comes out with a small exhale of air, and Brittany cracks her eyes open quizzically; immediately returning the same smile when she notices the one on Santana's face. Neither of them even know why they're just lying here, still _very _connected and smiling at eachother like total idiots. But all Santana know is how comfortable she feels; how comfortable and fucking _happy _she feels.

"Wow," she lets out through a low chuckle, her breath hot and heavy on Brittany's mouth. She can't quite believe how perfect that was. And how she feels right now. She _never _feels like this. Like, _never._

Brittany returns the chuckle, and scrunches her nose up a little. It's kind of ridiculous how she can go from mind-blowingly sexy too downright adorable. "Yeah..." she agrees, nodding gently. "_Wow._"

Nudging her nose against Brittany's, Santana brings their mouths together and kisses Brittany lazily, both of them feeling the exhaustion way down on them. Santana breaks first, dropping her head back to the pillow as her arms make their way around the other girl's waist, holding and rolling until she can pull herself out. Brittany groans, and the cool air pierces her skin as she twists once more. She quickly reaches over to the side table, grabbing a tissue and snapping the condom off her softening member before balling it up inside the tissue and dropping it off the side of the bed, as she's way too tired to find the bin.

Turning back, she sees Brittany's eyes slowly dropping as her arms are spread over her head on the pillow, and Santana grins as her eyes trace up the other girl's naked body, lingering at her breasts, the dip in her abs and the apex of her thighs. She seriously doesn't think she'll ever get over how fucking hot Brittany is.

Santana collapses back onto the bed and hesitates to find a place for her arms. She's never done this bit before. The bit after sex. Usually by now, if it were any other girl, she'd be buckling up the belt on her jeans and throwing the girl a quick smile. Or muttering a thanks and the good old '_I'll call you later'_ line as she hastily makes her way through the bedroom door; sighing in relief because _this _girl didn't chase her out the house like Ellen Sanchez did in Sophomore year.

But that just doesn't feel right with Brittany. In fact, Santana has _no _urge to leave _at all_; no urge to swing her legs over the edge and make up some bullshit about her brother needing picking up or her non-existent curfew. Actually, all she wants to do is cuddle up to Brittany, press soft kisses to her hair until they both give into the fatigue tugging at their eyelids.

Surprisingly, though – well she really shouldn't be surprised because this is Brittany- she barely has thirty seconds to spare before an arm is thrown over her midsection and a head is tucked beneath her chin. Legs tangle with her own and she smiles as the sheet is brought over their bodies. From then on it's pretty easy. She instantly presses her palm to Brittany's back until their bodies mould together, then slides down her other hand and rests it against her hip – her thumb rubbing in circular motions over the skin there.

"Tired," Brittany mumbles into her skin, her lips brushing distractingly against her pulse point.

Santana manages a smile. "Me too," she agrees around a yawn. "Let's go to sleep."

"_Mmhmm..." _Brittany's voice trails off as her nose nuzzles into Santana's neck, her arm tightening around her waist and wrist brushing her hipbone. "Lets."

Santana only laughs and pulls Brittany closer, the sleep soon taking over them both.

* * *

**Badabingbadaboom. You know what to do.**


	16. Part Sixteen

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Sixteen]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **12k  
**Author's Note:** Met my beta again today and she just keeps getting more awesome. Seriously, you guys should be jelly. Thank you for all your help napkin ranter)  
**Author's Note 2: **ALSO, I know how slow this fic is actually progressing, but there is some juicy bits coming up in the next few chapters so hang on because it'll soon be a bumpy ride!

* * *

The next morning when Santana wakes, her body aches for all the best reasons.

Cracking open her eyes, and blinking away the groggy feeling scratching behind her lids, she stretches her arms way above her and feels her bones pop back into place. There's an intruding sunlight making her squint to the right, and as her mind becomes more active, she becomes incredibly aware of the warmth around her; the wrong type of warmth to the one that's supposed to be there.

The one she wants has a steady heartbeat, bright blue eyes and a smile that could pretty much light up the entire town. But the one that's covering her is the heat the sunlight filtering through the blinds and prickling over her tanned skin.

Her arms drop back to her side, and she instantly presses her palms into the mattress to prop herself up. She blinks a few times, allowing herself to adjust to the sting in her eyes and thinks that maybe taking her contacts out last night would have been a wise idea. The sheet around her drops to her lap, only covering her legs and she instantly feels a chill crawl over her skin. Her hands fall to the cover and tug until the only skin showing is that above her breasts, whilst her eyes scan the room for the source of her blooming chest, but the smile drops from her face after a few seconds.

She's alone.

"Brittany?" She croaks out through a dry mouth, poking her tongue out to wet her lips. She moves her hand to glide across the sheet and finds them cold, which is weird because she's not exactly a heavy sleeper and it seems Brittany's been gone for a while.

Flexing her muscles, she lets out a yawn and falls back to the bed as a smile takes over her lips, eyes close and mind wanders back to last night. A fluttering echoes through her chest until she feels nothing but elation and she restrains the urge to thrash around on the bed because she's just that damn happy. She and Brittany finally connected on a level that she's never experienced before; emotional and physical. Separately, it's not new. But combined? It's unheard of.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of feet padding along the hallway outside Brittany's room, and brown eyes grow wide when Santana thinks that maybe Susan or Madison are about to walk in on her like this. But then she hears a low humming and doesn't fight the grin that spreads across her face because singing in the morning is just so Brittany.

The bedroom door swings open and barely five seconds later, she feels the bed dip and then strong legs bracket her hips. She cracks open her eyes and slides her hand up to stroke over smooth thighs, her heart beat ten folding as the grin stretches further across her face. She takes a few moments to just look over Brittany who's eating a croissant and feel the pads of her fingers tingle from where they're gliding over smooth, creamy skin. Noticing the piece of clothing covering that sacred place between Brittany's legs and the lack of clothing covering her upper half Santana immediately snaps her eyes up to meet blue ones and smiles.

"You're wearing my boxers?"

Brittany breaks off a piece of the food and pops it in her mouth, nodding. "They're comfy," she shrugs then wiggles her hips. "Roomy, too."

Santana lets out a small chuckle. "Well they would be roomy for you."

Brittany makes a noise that sounds like she's agreeing and drops her hands to Santana's bare chest, resting them between the valley of her boobs; the croissant in her right one. "I did wonder why there was a little lipstick holder thing at the front at first," she winks. "Then I realized what you have that I don't."

"What, a dick?" Santana asks with amusement in her tone.

Brittany finishes her mouthful, swallows and then leans down to press her lips to Santana's briefly. "Yep," she says then kisses her again, slower this time, flicking her tongue across her lower lip and pulling back with a soft smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning indeed," Santana mumbles against the other girl's lips and presses them together once more, tasting pastry and coffee. She smiles and before she even knows it her hands are making their way up strong legs and tilting inward towards the apex of Brittany's thighs.

"Are you hungry?" Brittany questions, pulling back to sit up again as she pops the last piece of croissant into her mouth and flicks her tongue across the pad of her finger. Santana just watches in awe, eyes widening slightly and stinging less. She really needs to go home and get her glasses because her contacts are making them ache like a bitch; but watching Brittany eat a damn French pastry is so much more appealing, even if that is pretty strange.

"How the hell do you make eating a croissant sexy?" She rasps, ignoring the question and poking her tongue out to wet her lips. Brittany grins and wiggles her hips. "Seriously, it's insane."

"It's a skill."

Santana waggles her eyebrows a little. "I can think of other skills you have," she says through a smirk.

"You can?" Brittany plays the innocent card and tilts her chin, pressing her lips together like she doesn't have a clue what Santana's talking about.

"Mmhmm."

"What skills, then?" She ponders and scrunches up her nose.

Shaking her head and giggling, Santana slides her palms around to Brittany's ass, then up the expanse of her bare back until she's cradling just below her shoulder blades. With her stomach muscles, she pulls up and begins to run her tongue along the ridge of the other girl's collarbone, grazing her teeth lightly as she moves a little higher. Brittany tilts her head, allowing more access and Santana smiles against the skin of her neck. This is totally the best morning she's ever had. Waking up like this, with Brittany above her and her running her lips over the pulse point below the blonde's ear?

Best way to wake up _ever_.

Somewhere along the line, their hips begin to rock together and Santana feels herself harden as the fabric of her boxers rub against her. A quick slip of her fingers and she could be making this morning even better. Although, last night was pretty risky considering Brittany's mom was just down the hall, but it's not like she could have resisted when Brittany's so fucking good at taking the lead... So the least Santana can do right now, before she shows Brittany how she can take control, is to respect the other Pierces.

She moves her head back, taking her lips away from the column of Brittany's throat to look up at her. "Where's your family?"

Brittany reaches up to gather her hair and move it to hold as a ponytail. "They went to visit my Grandma in Cincinnati for the weekend," golden locks tumble over bare shoulders as she drops her hands. Santana grabs at them and twines their fingers together affectionately, resting them on her abs. "They do it every month."

"Why didn't you go too?"

"I said I have too much work to do," Brittany curls her lips into a devious smile.

Santana narrows her eyes. "You have too much work to do?"

"It was a lie," the blonde continues as she pokes at Santana's stomach. "Obviously."

A chuckle bubbles through her lips as she stares into blue eyes, not quite believing this side of Brittany. "You lied?"

Brittany's eyes sparkle mischievously. "How else was I supposed to get the house alone with you for the weekend?"

"I like this Brittany," Santana comments as she returns her mouth to Brittany's jaw, sucking gently. But before she can tilt her neck to press their lips together, hands up her cheeks and then she's staring at a confused blonde with an arched eyebrow.

"There's two of me? Does that mean you're cheating on me?"

A jolt of fear spikes through her. To be able to cheat on Brittany, there would have to be some sort of relationship between them to cheat_ on_. To be able to cheat on her, there would have to be an official title to bond them together, like on Facebook. They'd have to be 'seeing someone' or 'in a relationship' or even 'dating' or whatever the hell it is. To be able to cheat on Brittany... They'd have to be _together_.

Which, in all honesty, doesn't really scare Santana because it's what she wants. It's what she has wanted for a while now; to be Brittany's girlfriend and to hold her hand as they walk down the school corridors. To kiss her before class and to lay on the school field in their free periods, just marveling in their togetherness as they run their fingers through the blades of grass.

It's just that if she says it, if she verbalises or even questions what they are, and tells Brittany that she doesn't know what's going on between them, she runs the risk of ruining it before it even begins. She doesn't know whether Brittany already thinks they're together and she doesn't know whether Brittany thinks they're already official.

Plus, why should she have to ask, anyway? She like what they're doing at the moment. She likes what they are at the moment; there's no labels and nothing to scare the crap out of her. Brittany knows how she feels about her, and she knows how Brittany feels about her; why ruin that?

"Wait," the hands on her cheeks hold her back when she tries to resume her kisses. "Are you cheating on me?" Brittany asks with concern and fear flashing behind her eyes.

"No, Britt," the answer is immediate as she wraps her fingers around a pale wrists and tugs the hands away from her face. "I just mean that there's two of you because," she pauses by craning her neck and pressing her lips to Brittany's quickly. "There's the good one that her mother thinks is innocent enough to stay at home on a weekend and do school work," she says, smirking against the other girls mouth.

"And then there's the one that_ I_ know-," she kisses her again, allowing her teeth to graze over Brittany's bottom lip before pulling back. "That lies to her mother and actually spends her weekend half naked and wearing my boxers," her hand comes down to the waistband of the boxers and she traces her fingers along the inside.

Brittany smirks, her fingers reaching up and tangling into the dark locks as she brings their mouths back together and kisses Santana deeply; tongues tangling instantly. They kiss for long moments, pulling away briefly to drop small kisses to each others lips, cheeks, foreheads and noses until they have to return to lips because there's nowhere else to kiss.

Santana's breathless when she pulls away, and pretty damn aroused too. So much so, that she can feel the sheet tenting over her crotch between her stomach and the apex of Brittany's thighs. A grin crosses her face as their foreheads tilt together and eyes lock in an intense gaze that neither need or want to break.

"I'm pretty sure-," Brittany starts before punctuating her sentence with a kiss. "You're not the only one who likes this double me," she says, mysteriously.

"Really? Who else?" Santana asks, confused. Because she's kind of hoping that she's the only one to have seen Brittany like this, or to have seen the two sides to Brittany, anyway.

Brittany doesn't answer with words. Instead, she shifts herself and rocks forward to press her clothed center to the tented sheet between them until it's lodged against their stomachs. Santana's mouth drops into a small 'o' of recognition and she chuckles a little; the pressure on her shaft sending heat and arousal all over her body. Her hands glide up the length of back and she giggles at herself for even thinking that anyone else has seen Brittany like this; so open and vulnerable, so able to be herself, just like Santana can be too.

She leans up and seals her thoughts with a kiss, moving her hands to Brittany's hips as she smiles against Brittany's mouth. In one swift movement, she flips them until her hips sink between strong legs and then brings their lips back together, body pressing harder into Brittany's until there's no space between their bodies. Her hand slips into the boxers covering the other girl's hips and tugs them down her legs; trusting Brittany to kick them the rest of the way.

"Oh, and by the way," she breaks apart and stares down at flushed cheeks, tousled hair and dark, quizzical blue eyes. "Someone else totally likes it too," she grins at the same time Brittany chuckles, her hips wiggling to emphasize her words; her member sliding through wet hot folds.

Brittany shudders but giggles. "Just shut up and kiss me," she demands playfully as her arms reach up to wrap around Santana's neck, pulling them back together.

Santana just smiles into the kiss as she enters into Brittany once more.

* * *

After round four or five Santana can't really remember they both fell spent to the mattress; Santana staring up at the ceiling with half of Brittany's body draped across her. So now, a few minutes after their last round, she's staring at the paint swirls as her hand tickles up and over the notches in Brittany's spine, whilst slender fingers walk across her collarbone and back again. The silence between them is comfortable; the type of comfortable which can only from two people who are one hundred percent happy and content when they're with each other, and Santana's heart is kind of fluttering at that thought.

"Do you think it's weird?" Brittany suddenly pipes up, folding her hands and resting them on Santana's chest bone; her chin on top of that and body shuffling further onto the one below.

Santana's eyes take a second to focus as she looks into blue. She really needs her glasses, soon. "Do I think what's weird?"

"This," Brittany taps the hollow of her throat. "Like us."

"Why would it be weird?"

"Because like," Brittany looks away. "We can just lie in silence and it doesn't feel weird?"

A smile tugs at her lips. "You think it's weird, because it's not weird?" Santana asks, her face twisting with amusement.

"Shut up," Brittany mumbles, crinkling her nose and leaning up to press her lips to the underside of Santana's jaw. "You know what I mean."

"I do," she agrees as teeth graze against the corner of her jaw. Her eyes flutter a few times and she thinks her pulse quickens. "And I agree. We've known each other for a few weeks and already come further than I've come with anyone else I've known- well," she presses her lips together. "Apart from my family."

"Mmhmm..." Brittany hums into her neck even though it sounds like her mind's going somewhere else.

Santana chuckles and then a palm runs over each bump of her ribs and wanders a little further south until it's lingering below her belly button. Sensing the destination, and the smirk against her neck as she gasps sharply and quietly, she grabs at Brittany's hand and stills the movement. Until now she never knew that a few hours of sex could be so damn tiring, especially considering her fitness level, but it seems that Coach Sue's two hundred wind sprints and seventy five crunches bare absolutely nothing on three or four rounds in bed with Brittany, because sex with her is like a triathlon; but with gymnastics instead of running, bull riding instead of cycling and figure skating instead of swimming.

Basically, it's just exhausting.

"We can't," she rasps out, because her body is totally wanting to do the opposite. "Well, we can but let me at least go and buy like fourteen Red Bulls and a few Monsters."

Brittany giggles and sits up, the sheet dropping to her waist and revealing all her naked glory. Santana swallows thickly, her eyes growing wide as she pushes back the urge to say '_fuck the exhaustion_' and just push Brittany back to the bed and ravish her with kisses. But her mind has different ideas and the last thing she wants to happen is to not satisfy either of them after the last few rounds; embarrassing wouldn't even cover that.

"Okay," the blonde drawls through a chuckle as her eyes flicker to the side table. "Let's get up then."

"Awh, no," Santana whines and turns her face into the pillow. "I don't wanna."

"Are you really going to throw a strop after you just said you needed rest?"

She can just imagine the amused expression on Brittany's face and it brings a grin to her face. Luckily, she can't be seen otherwise her little temper tantrum probably wouldn't be working right now. "Maybe," she muffles into the pillow.

"Okay," Brittany breathes out. "I'll guess I'll just have to go and watch Finding Nemo on my own... Naked."

Santana cracks an eye open when the bed lifts a little, thinking Brittany's lying to get a reaction out of her and is rewarded with the beautiful sight of a stark naked blonde, stretching her arms above her head and allowing the light filtering in through the window to hit all the right curves on her body. Her eyes trace over the other girl's body, lingering at the curve of her ass and then up to her back where her muscles ripple. The sight drains her mouth of all fluid, but she couldn't really care less, because Brittany's fucking standing here fucking naked, for all to see.

What a beautiful sight this is.

"Are you coming?"

Santana smirks and glances up to find blue eyes looking at her. "Almost," she starts and feels the arousal build in her stomach. She pushes up and shuffles to the edge of the bed, enough to throw her legs over the side the sheet still covering her lap and grabs at Brittany's hips. Brittany turns on instinct, hands falling to tanned shoulders and a smile gracing her lips. "But now I don't think I need any energy drinks," she says, suggestively.

Brittany rolls her eyes and steps away, head shaking. "Nuh uh," she wags her finger in the air but Santana barely even notices as her eyes drops to perky breasts. "You need a break."

"Break over," she tries. There's no need for any Red Bull or Monster or whatever now, she's fired up and ready to go at least for another round or two. Hope blooms in her chest as she fires the other girl a smile that she knows is charming and seductive, and lifts her brows a little to aid the cuteness of her expression. "Now can we get back in bed?"

But the blonde stays true to her word and shakes her head, before moving away even further and out of her reach to pick out some clothes from her dresser. She pulls out a pair of short shorts and two tank tops, throwing one to Santana who ignores it because Brittany's ass is like right there and then begins to dress herself. The more and more she's covered up, the more Santana's brain begins to kick in and the more the disappointment settles into her chest leaving the arousal to burn out into a pit of ash.

_Total_ waste.

"Britt..." she whines, folding her hands on her lap and fingering the edge of the top on her lap.

"You wanted a break," Brittany challenges, looking playfully evil.

"I don't anymore, though!"

"Tough," Brittany shoots her a wink. "Now get your ass dressed because I need to get my Dory on."

"Fine," Santana grumbles, picking up the top and slipping her arms through it and over her head. "But you're gonna pay for this lesson."

Brittany just flashes a grin that says '_I won_'.

* * *

"This better be a good film," Santana says, descending the last step with a scowl on her face.

It took about five minutes and a face full of peppered kisses for her to actually climb out of bed and slip into her boxers, then another few for Brittany to pull her by the wrists to the door and smile sweetly, when she tried to stay inside the room. The whole ordeal was pretty melodramatic, but Santana thought it was kind of cute in a really corny way; so whatever.

"You've never seen Finding Nemo?" Brittany stops and turns to ask the question, her blue eyes widening and brows scrunching together.

"No..."

Brittany blinks incredulously and begins the walk to the living room again, fingers still laced through Santana's and leading her the way. "What do you do with your life?" She question rhetorically, and probably mostly to herself, but Santana replies anyway.

"What do _I_ do with_ my_ life?" She asks, thinking how silly the question is just because she has better things to do with her free time than watch kids movies. But before the blonde can answer, she stumbles over the lip of the rug and her hand jerks out to grab at Brittany's waist to steady herself. Brittany looks over her shoulder, scrunching up her nose adorably and laughing because that was seriously lame, not to mention it totally ruined her little comeback.

"Apparently fall over," Brittany kisses her on the cheek and then skips into the kitchen. "Do you want a drink?"

Santana declines and waits until the blonde skips off to take a seat and turning on the TV. Some lame documentary is showing and she has no idea what channel the film's on so she leaves the remote on the coffee table. Weighing her options because there's no way in hell she's actually going to watch this film she shifts on the couch and spreads along the length of it until she's lying on her side and her back is pressing into the back of the sofa. There's plenty of room for Brittany in front of her, and the least she can do is get her cuddle on whilst they're watching this film.

(In the back of her mind she does wonder when she got so damn sappy that she'd sit through a stupid Pixar film to keep Brittany happy.)

Brittany comes back into the room, smiling and carrying a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos in one hand, a glass of water in the other. Santana smiles and then has the urge to slap herself in the head because she can't never not smile when she's around Brittany. And even though it doesn't matter so much anymore after the whole Quinn thing yesterday there's still a part of her that can't believe how fucking whipped she is already.

"Can you switch it to AMC, please?" Brittany asks, bending to grab the remote and chuck it at Santana before opening the bag of Doritos and setting it aside the glass of water on the coffee table. She doesn't even blink an eyelid at how Santana's lying, so ready for cuddling, and Santana kind of fucking loves that. TV flicking to the required channel, she drops the remote over the side of the couch and then admires the way the blonde girl casually lies in front of her so easily, scooting her ass backwards until the curve of it fits into Santana's hips and her back pushes up against her front, like they're a couple or something.

It's instinctive for Santana to move her arms though, despite the thoughts, but by the time the thought sends the signal out to her limbs, she realizes she doesn't have to because fingers have already curled around her wrist and tugged until she has her palm pressed to the flat of Brittany's stomach.

"What's it about?" She whispers, even though they're not in a movie theater.

Brittany shrugs and she can just image the blonde's expression; brows furrowed and lips pressed together. "If you watch you'll find out," she twists her head and pecks Santana on the lips quickly before returning to TV screen. "So ssssh."

Santana's heart skips at least a few beats as she breathes in the scent of apple shampoo wafting up from blonde hair and feels the tingle on her lips from where Brittany's just were, and shuffles forward until there's no space between them; her arm curling tighter around the other girl's midsection as the cool little lamp on the Pixar animation comes up on screen.

Okay, maybe watching a movie wasn't that bad of an idea.

* * *

By the time the film meets the halfway mark, Santana's eyes are glossy and her lungs burn from laughing so damn much. Kids movies have never appealed to her she thinks it's down to Fernando because she was always forced into watching them when they were younger but there's a serious difference between Cinderella and Finding Nemo. Humor, she thinks.

"Oh my God," she rubs her forehead against Brittany's shoulder blades as she laughs it out. "I can't even-"

"You're such a goober," Brittany comments, twisting in tanned arms to face her.

Santana's laugh begins to die away, and she's pretty grateful considering her cheeks are aching from giggling too much. "This is some funny shit," she replies, still smiling. "_Awh guys, you made me ink_," she recites and begins to chuckle again, her body vibrating against Brittany's as it ripples with laughter.

Brittany giggles in and Santana returns to her giggling stage until she feels hands smooth up the front of her top; nails grazing lightly over her skin as open mouthed kisses are pressed to her neck. She gulps, feelings Brittany's smile against her as her throat moves and darts her vision between the TV where that blue fish (Dory, maybe?) is trying to ready the word '_escape_ and a blonde head of hair.

"I thought you wanted to watch this?"

Brittany pulls back enough to look her in the eye. "Got bored," she reasons then kisses her slowly.

Santana smiles, kissing back for a second before breaking it again. "What about my resting time that you said I so-_oh_," her words fail when Brittany's hand slides down the front of her boxers, grabbing at her and stroking gently. Blue eyes sparkle at her and heat blossoms over her skin. The effect this girl has on her is kind of insane. "The resting time _you_ said I needed?"

"_You're_ the one who said you needed it," the other girl retorts, kissing along her collarbone. "Plus," Brittany twists her wrist and rolls the pad of her thumb over the tip of her hardening member. "I think you've had enough time to recover."

She can't really argue with that. They've been watching this damn film for a good 45 minutes now and hell, 20 minutes probably would have been enough time to gain enough energy, even if she said she was ready for it before. Plus there's the additional factor that now Brittany's hand is down her shorts, stroking relentlessly whilst her mouth is skillfully sucking at the pulse point on her neck so who would she be to refuse?

"But, baby," she tries to protest. Because the logical part of her mind is telling her how they're lying on Brittany's couch in the middle of the day, the curtains wide open and nosy neighbors outside walking their dogs. "We don't have a condom," she finishes. In the end, nosy neighbors, midday and open curtains aren't gonna stop her or Brittany but this will. Protection is vital. Sure, Santana has got around a bit in the past but no time has she ever gone without. Sixteen and Pregnant isn't fucking fictional and she's watched enough of that to be scared for the next decade or so.

And Brittany seems to get crux because her lips still on Santana's neck and she pulls back; probably with the 'oh yeah' sign printed on her forehead. But when they lock eyes, the expression she's wearing says nothing of the sort.

"You have fingers don't you?" Brittany smirks and then Santana grins. Okay, definitely can't argue with that.

It doesn't take any more convincing, because by the time Brittany's lips shut once more, Santana already has her hand palming at the blonde's boob, thumb rubbing over a nipple that hardens underneath her touch. Her lips come down to other lips, keeping them pressed together before Brittany begins to kiss back and then they're full on making out; tongues tangling and stroking patterns on the roofs of each others mouths. She pulls back for air at the same time her hand glides down toned abs and beneath the fabric of Brittany's shorts, fingers instantly flicking at her clit like they've been doing this for years.

Brittany gasps into her mouth, eyes squeezing shut and Santana moves her free hand to brush the blonde hair of a pale forehead. Then she proceeds to cup Brittany's cheek, thumb rubbing across the smooth skin there whilst her fingers delve a little lower and tease at her entrance. Blue eyes snap open, and brown ones meet them instantly as a soft smile crosses Santana's face; and then she's pushing into her with two fingers, curling at the right spot and beginning a rhythm that matches the kisses she trails along Brittany's jaw.

The hand in her boxer moves a little faster too, twisting until fingers wrap around her shaft and then they're rocking together to meet each other with every thrust. Santana feels her stomach tighten rapidly, and the muscles around her fingers begin to flex as she reaches up with her thumb to roll the pad over the bundles of nerves. They smile at each other, leaning in simultaneously to reconnect their lips and kiss clumsily; all the finesse disappearing as it gets harder and harder to breathe with their orgasms approaching rapidly.

She pushes Brittany back, and drapes half of herself over the other girl as their lips part, but the tips of them staying together to keep the intimacy there. It doesn't take long until the rubber band low in her belly snaps and she jerks forward, pushing into Brittany as she spills her load inside of her boxers; not caring for the discomfort it'll bring soon. Her fingers keep their pace until the blonde snaps her head back, her back arches and mouth drops open as her orgasm punches through her.

Santana watches in awe as pleasure etches its way across Brittany's face, and she's pretty sure there's no other way she'd rather be spending her weekend; not just being able to give the blonde what she is, but to be lying here and staring at her whilst they tip over the edge together. Mutual orgasms isn't something she's really experienced before; mostly because she never really cared for the girl she was sleeping with. The main aim was to get herself off and then leave, whether the girl was fulfilled or not. But with Brittany it's different, much like everything else with the blonde. It hits her that she wouldn't really give a crap whether she was left hanging, so to speak, because just watching Brittany get off is enough for her.

Silly, really, but it's not like that with Brittany.

After Brittany's body begins to minimize in shakes, Santana slowly withdraws her fingers, pressing their lips together to try and make up for the movement. The hand inside her boxers retracts too, and a whimper escapes her. She wipes her fingers on her boxers, smiling in a way that says '_you're wonderful_' and '_so beautiful_' as Brittany throws one straight back; her eyes drooping as the intensity of the orgasm crashes down upon her.

There's a flush that's covering pale cheeks and Santana wonders if she's wearing the same, because even if they didn't have sex, the orgasms they give each other are still pretty exhausting.

"Jesus," Brittany pants, grinning and chuckling as she runs a hand through her hair.

Santana leans into the touch and hums like she's agreeing. "Yeah," she breathes out; her lungs gaining the much needed oxygen.

The other girl smiles up at her and then tightens the grip in her hair, pulling their mouths back together in a lazy kiss that's all lips and barely any tongue. They remain like that for a few moments, both too tired to do much more until Brittany drops her head back to the sofa cushions and then tilts her head to the side. Santana slides her hand down, slipping underneath the hem of Brittany's top and running her fingers along the warm skin there; half her mind pondering the gaze and the other half too enamored to care.

"You're pretty," comes out of Brittany's mouth after a long few seconds.

A blush covers her face as Santana presses her forehead to the other girl's shoulder. "And you're embarrassing me." Fingers come up to her face, stroking back a piece of hair until she glances up and looks into blue eyes.

"It's the truth," Brittany whispers, even though they're alone in the house with no-one else to hear.

Santana tugs her lips up at one side and kisses her quickly. "Well, thank you," she mumbles into Brittany's mouth. "You're rather beautiful yourself."

"I didn't say beautiful," the blonde teases, scrunching up her nose and smiling.

Brown eyes roll and Santana shifts them until they're back in their spooning position, Brittany facing the TV and Santana with her chin perched on her shoulder. "Shut up and watch the movie," Santana whispers, pressing her lips to the other girl's cheek and then settling back once more.

* * *

"Brittany," Santana sighs, throwing her head back against the tiled wall, her fingers clenching into blonde hair as a tongue swirls around the tip of her cock. She spares a quick glance down, watching Brittany's head bob up and down between her legs as the water from the shower above trickles over their bodies and doesn't think she's going to last much longer. The temperature is way too cold for a normal shower, but after they stumbled into the stall with their lips pressed together because Brittany suggested a clean up was in order, and then the blonde dropped to her knees, Santana had to switch the water to cold because the heat was already too much.

A smacking sound is evident through the drips and drops, and Santana groans at the loss of a warm mouth around her shaft as fingers take over the motion, stroking with intent. Damp dark locks sticks to her face, and she tries to wipe them away but the movement is halted when lips swallow her again until they're pressing to the base of her shaft, and the tip is bumping at the back of Brittany's throat, and then all thoughts of wet hair are literally blown out her mind.

(No girl has ever been able to take all of her and fuck, it feels so fucking good.)

"Britt-, I'm gonna-," she swallows the words and drops her mouth open, eyes squeezing shut as the pressure at the base of her spine builds and builds. Her nails graze Brittany's scalp and her hips jut forward when the other girl pulls back, needing the contact to stay because she's so damn close it almost hurts. Lips press to the piece of skin below her belly as a hand replaces the actions and it takes one, two, three strokes until she's coming hard.

All available oxygen in her lungs escape her and she chokes on the urge to take a breath as she moans loudly into her orgasm; feeling her load spurt out of her rapidly. She bites down on her lip and grunts, hips jerking forward to prolong it as a tongue begins to lick at her shaft; up and down the length of it. Pleasure and a rush of heat surges through her, sizzling out in the tips of her fingers and toes and she allows her mind to swim in it because before now, she didn't even fucking know an orgasm could reach her damn toes.

(She really has no fucking idea why she ever thought Brittany was a virgin.)

"Fuh-, hell," she breathes out heavily; her chest moving in quick succession. Brittany flickers her tongue once more sending shivers of arousal around Santana before pulling back and standing. Smiles are exchanged, Santana's slightly lopsided, and Brittany leans in and kisses her, tongues flicking at lips playfully until she gives in and opens her mouth. Her eyes roll into the back of her head as she tastes herself in the other girl's mouths, and her hands fall to pale hips, driving Brittany into the opposite side of the stall and slipping until two fingers are sliding through slick folds.

Brittany nips on her bottom lip and she smirks against her mouth, stroking her tongue along the edge of sharp teeth. She remains there kissing her for a while whilst the energy rebuilds inside of her; fingers still working against the other girl, but never delving inside. She waits until her breathing regulates, and then begins to kiss down Brittany's neck, reaching up with her free hand to tweak a pert nipple as she adds a little pressure to the bundle of nerves.

She doesn't wait and longer, and drops into a crouch, smirking up at Brittany as she slides her hand around to cup a long leg, and hook it over her shoulder. Open mouthed kisses begin to work up a strong thigh, teeth grazing and tongue soothing with every other kiss until she feels the heat from Brittany's center radiate onto her face. Sparing a final glance into blue eyes, she presses her lips gently to wet folds and then flicks out her tongue. Brittany's hips jerk against her mouth, seeking more and Santana can only oblige as she strokes her way between them, feeling the way the blonde's mind blanks. She smiles against hot flesh, then pushes her tongue as far into Brittany as possible, earning a strangled moan that makes her grateful for the other Pierces' absence.

"_S'nta-nah-_," Brittany gasps sharply and spreads her legs a little wider, allowing Santana to remove her tongue, slide her left hand from Brittany's knee to the apex of her thighs and slide in one finger. She curls it, moving her lips to wrap around Brittany's clit and sucks expertly until the muscles around her begin to tighten, Brittany's whimpers increase in volume and slender fingers tangle into her hair and tug lightly.

The sound only spurs Santana on as she slides another finger deep within Brittany, curling and dipping her tongue through her once again, flicking at the top until she feels strong thighs trembling and fingers tightening. It's only a few repetitions and then Brittany's whimpering and moaning and the air around both of them gets hotter and hotter as she brings the blonde over the edge; her tongue dipping in for that final push.

Brittany squeaks and then Santana feels muscles clench around her finger, hips jut forward as the other girl arches her back off the wall. palms pressed to the flat of the tile and head snapped back. It's over pretty fast, and she's smiling into hot flesh as Brittany's body convulses with the final strokes of her tongue. Then she's kissing her way back up smooth skin and taut abs, tongue spearing out to flick over a pink nipple to prolong the way Brittany's hips are rolling into hers with the aftermath of her orgasm.

She smirks when she glances at Brittany's face, seeing nothing but flushed cheeks and damp blonde hair sticking to pale skin. "You alright?" she asks softly, licking her lips and tasting the remains of Brittany on there.

Brittany nods feverishly, her words low, sputtered and indecipherable. Santana just laughs and grabs the girl's chin, tilting her head down and kissing her, sucking Brittany's bottom lip between her own gently. The blonde kisses back after a few seconds, her palms coming up to cup tanned cheeks as water continues to fall around them, trickling down their skin.

"You're-," she pants against her lips, tilting their foreheads together and bumping the tips of their noses. "So amazing."

Santana smiles. "You know it," she teases, hands sliding down to grip the other girl's hips.

"And so up your own ass," the other girl muses, arms sliding around a tanned neck and hands clasping at the back where they dangle between her shoulder blades. "Can't blame you though," Brittany adds as an afterthought, tilting her head to kiss her softly as a smile crosses her lips.

They stand there in silence for a long moment, just kissing softly; lips pressed against lips and holding to prolong the intimacy and emotions they feel. That's the best thing about this, Santana thinks, that they don't have to verbalize anything and take the risk of screwing it up by saying the wrong thing. Both of them are content with how they are and how they're spending time together as a couple but without all the pressure of being a couple.

The kiss breaks, and they return to gazing at each other with their foreheads touching, and Santana knows she's never going to get enough of Brittany. It's like even when she's with the blonde, or kissing the blonde, she just can't get enough. She just wants more and more of her and wants to spend every waking second with Brittany. She guesses that's kind of creepy in the Twilight/Edward Cullen/stalker kind of way, but she can't help it. It's like she just can't contain her happiness when she's with Brittany, because Brittany brings the best out in her.

"Britt, I-," she stammers, feeling the words lodge in her throat as she pulls her head back. Her eyes avert to the tile of the shower stall, and she tries to figure out what she's trying to say. The last thing she wants to do is fuck up this perfect moment of silence, but the need to tell Brittany how damn happy she makes her is building deep within her heart. As brown eyes return to blue, she considers saying something along the lines of, '_I want to spend all my time with you_' or '_I've never been happier_.'

But somehow, those words just don't seem to do how Brittany makes her feel any justice.

"What?" Brittany whispers in that hushed, slightly concerned tone.

"Nothing," Santana shakes her head and tries a smile. "You wanna take this party to the bedroom?"

She waits, feeling their chests move and breaths run on a cycle Brittany's in, Santana's out and moves her gaze between two blue eyes that study her studiously. Something thick builds inside her throat and she swallows against it, hoping Brittany won't see the hesitation in her words, but then pink lips pull into a wary smile and the examination stops.

"Definitely," Brittany responds, grinning and flipping off the shower before tugging Santana by the wrist out the shower and into the bathroom.

(Three little words repeat over and over in her mind when they come together, eyes bursting open and locking, and Santana realizes in that moment what she was trying to say.)

* * *

She's lying flat on her front; arms tucked underneath her pillow and cheek pressed on that. The thin sheet on the bed covers her from the hips down and she can feel the dimming sun seep through the curtains from the right, keeping her body the right temperature. She's been lying here for a good forty five minutes, trying to gain any energy back because to say she's worn out would definitely be an understatement.

After round six and seven (six with Brittany bent over the sink and seven with her ankles by her ears on a towel on the floor) they stumbled into the bedroom, clutching at limbs to support each other and collapsed onto the bed in an exhausted pile of spent bodies. They didn't even shuffle up the bed; instead, tugged the crumpled sheet from the base of the bed to cover them as they curled into each other and began to kiss lazily, tongues dragging slow patterns on each other and lips brushing tenderly. However, that did lead them to get all fired up again and another round which in hindsight was probably not a good idea because it's only Saturday and Brittany's stash of condoms has minimized considerably, so it'll only be a matter of time before they've got to actually get dressed before they can get undressed again.

(Go figure.)

But here Santana is, lying on the bed with her eyes closed and breathing slow, trying to find the 'off' switch in her mind to send her into a blissful dream. Her heart's thrumming loudly, and she's trying to stop that too, but she's just can't. Not whilst she has this crave to stay awake just so she can cherish every moment she has with Brittany, even if she's not entirely sure where the other girl is at the moment, not after the bed lifted about half hour ago and never dipped again.

Just as the thought passes her mind, the mattress next to her hip moves and the warmth of a body presses down the length of hers. She smiles softly, never opening her eyes and nuzzles her cheek further into the pillow, calming herself to fall asleep as she now knows where Brittany is.

Well, that _was_ the idea before warm lips brushed over the skin of her shoulder.

"Santana," she hears, low and dreamy. Brittany's voice never ceases to make her smile. "Baby," her heart skips a beat at the term of endearment. "Wake up."

There's a lightness in her chest that definitely wasn't there before as she thinks of this weekend; of how perfect and wonderful it's been. Sure, it's not the end yet, but she knows there's only a number of hours before it is up, and there's nothing inside of her that wants it to finish. Not because of Quinn and having to hand her uniform into Coach and dealing with all those assholes that will question her drastic change of mind-

(Well, drastic for them as it was only a few days ago that she was still shoving Rachel Berry into a locker and not defending the damn hobbit.)

-but because it means this weekend will be over; no more hours and hours of just Brittany and Santana, together, not caring about anyone or anything else in the world. It'll be back to school and then back to thinking; back to questioning certain actions between them which will lead to certain talks that she just doesn't know the answers too yet.

She doesn't know when she will, either.

Santana takes in a deep breath, rolling over and tugging the sheet up to her chest with one hand, the other blindly searching the mattress for Brittany, who happens to meet her halfway and tangle their fingers together. She smiles, her lips lifting slightly, but her eyes remain shut. It's only second later that she feels warm lips press to her cheek, then drift down her jaw, over her chin, towards the other cheek. The kisses move to her forehead, the bridge of her nose and then the tip, before finishing on her lips where she smiles against them, feeling herself wander back into the world of consciousness.

It only takes a few seconds, but then she's sliding her hand around to cup at Brittany's neck, deepening the kiss as a body slides on top of her own and a thigh slips between hers. Despite her mind so badly wanting to push away the dragging fatigue lugging at her body, her body just doesn't seem up to it. Never in her entire life has she ever done _this _much exercise in one day even if for some of the rounds Brittany took the lead.

Her kisses slow, and she drops her head back to the pillow, parting their lips and running her fingertips down toned arms. Brittany's staring down at her with bright eyes, swollen lips and dazzling golden hair tumbling into a curtain around them, creating a bubble of their own, and it kind of takes her breath away.

Except her adoring gaze is broken when a hand tickles down her ribs and begins to tilt inwards.

"Baby," Santana whines, lowly. "You're wearing me out."

Brittany smiles and kisses her on the cheek. "Not my fault you have no stamina."

"I have stamina," she says, and to prove her point leans forward to pepper kiss around Brittany's face; finishing on her lips with a long, slow kiss, flicking her tongue along the roof of the other girl's mouth after parting her lips carefully. "I just gotta get me some food first," she mumbles when they pull apart.

Brittany sits up, shifting to throw a leg over Santana's hip until she's straddling her. "What do you wanna eat?" She asks, tracing her fingertip along a protruding collarbone, her eyes following the movement. When there's no instant reply, blue eyes flit up and meet smiling brown. "What?"

"Nothing," Santana dodges the question, afraid of what would spill from her lips. Using her stomach muscles, she pulls herself up until her back is pressed into the headboard and Brittany's on her lap. "But in all seriousness, have you got a Red Bull or something? Otherwise I'm done for."

Blue eyes roll. "You just need food," Brittany replies, poking her in the cheek and smiling. "Stop being so dramatic."

"Hey!" Santana scrunches her face and pouts, arms crossing simultaneously. "I'm not being dramatic. You're just freakishly energetic, like an Duracell bunny."

"You're a cheerleader?"

"_Was,_" Santana corrects, feeling something twitch in her heart. Sadness, she thinks. Brittany's lips pinch up at the side into a sympathetic smile but drops just as quickly, probably remembering Santana's intense dislike for the emotion.

"Anyway, you're a dancer. You're _way _more energetic than me."

Brittany arches a brow, a smirk playing on her lips. "We're basically the same thing."

"Except _I _haven't been doing it since I was six," she retorts, knowingly.

Except her eyes grow wide when she realizes what she just revealed. _Shit. _Brittany never told her that. The only reason she knows is because she basically forced Rachel into revealing stuff about her, and then of course proceeded to break into the school's personal files. The _Pierce _one to be exact.

"How'd you know that?"

Santana stills. "What?"

"How did you know I've been dancing since I was six?" Brittany's eyes narrow continuously as the question's asked.

"I..." The words die somewhere on her tongue and she licks her quickly drying lips, trying to find _anything _to say because _anything _would be better than this right now; this silence.

"Santana?" Brittany's hand cup her cheeks, forcing her to stay where she is when she tries to look away. "How did you know?"

"I..." She stares into blue eyes and feels panic flood over her. Before she can even stop herself she's saying it. "_," _she blurts out, ducking her chin to her chest and squeezing her eyes shut, readying herself for the onslaught that's to come.

It never does though.

"So?" Brittany leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead, before rolling off and sitting up on the side of the bed, tugging her shirt back into place around her hips as she bends down to touch her toes.

Santana's eyes lock onto the dip in the other girl's spine and she tries not to focus too much as Brittany's butt lifts off the edge off the mattress because her ass is more than distracting. It takes a few seconds, and a flick to the head, to regain her to her conscious state, but when she does she's grinning widely up at Brittany.

"I looked at yours, too," she shrugs and then stands, sweeping something off the floor and throwing it towards Santana at the same time.

"What?"

Brittany heads to her closet and takes out two pairs of sweatpants whilst Santana picks up the thing thrown at her, which turns out to be a t-shirt with cartoon ducks printed on the front. A laugh bubbles from her lips as she leans forward and slides the top over her head. Somehow Brittany just keeps getting cuter.

"You're not the only one that can break into Figgins' office," the blonde retorts, throwing a wink over her shoulder. "Now come on," she steps into a pair of sweatpants and heads over to the bed, holding out the other towards Santana. "Put these on and get your cute butt downstairs."

Santana narrows her smiling eyes as Brittany walks towards the mirror above the dresser. "Where are we going?" She pulls one pant leg up and then stills, snapping her head up. "And you've been looking at my ass?"

"You look at mine, so why shouldn't I look at yours?" The other girl throws back, smirking as she brushes through her hair and ties it into a ponytail.

Santana can't argue with that.

"You _do _have a nice ass," she purrs, folding the band of the sweatpants over until they're the right length and then steps towards Brittany, setting her hands on her hips and lips to her shoulder. As soon as she sees the t-shirt covering the other girl, she begins to chuckle, her chest moving up and down against Brittany's back. Of all the t-shirts she was expected, this wasn't one of them and now she gets why Brittany threw her _this _t-shirt to wear.

"I'm wearing your shirt, so you're wearing mine?"

Brittany grins at her in the mirror. "Your t-shirt looks better on me," she shrugs, dropping her hands from tying the ponytail and spinning in tanned arms, instantly looping her own around Santana's neck. "Plus judging by your reaction to me wearing your boxers earlier, you like it when I wear your clothes."

"True that," Santana nods and stretches up to suck at Brittany's bottom lip, her hands rounding to her ass when the blonde kisses back.

"Nuh, uh," Brittany mumbles against her mouth. "I know where you're going with this," she kisses her one final time before grabbing at tanned hands and pushing Santana way with a stern look on her face. "And we need to eat at least once today."

"Well... I've already eaten."

"You have?"

Santana smirks and winks. "Yep," she pops the 'p' with her lips as her eyes trail down Brittany's body. "And it was _delicious."_

It takes a few moments, but then Brittany's eyes grow wide and shock etches across her face. "Santana!" She chastises, slapping at Santana's arm and crossing her arms, embarrassed.

"What! I'm just saying!" She pulls at Brittany's arms until they drop to her side.

Brittany chuckle but there's a low whine weaving its way through it.

"Come on, Britt," she continues, sliding her hands around a pale wrist to tangle their fingers together. "I was kidding. But let's go cook some pancakes."

Brittany's face brightens. "Pancakes?"

"Yeah, baby," she nods, pulling them towards the bedroom door. Brittany bounces excitedly as she follows her. "With chocolate chips."

"And maple syrup?"

Santana can't _not _kiss Brittany when she's so damn cute. She spins quickly, pecking the other girl briefly on the lips and then heads down the hallway and towards the top of the stairs.

* * *

They managed to get through cooking some pancakes without as much as a few innocent touches; Brittany mixing the batter and Santana flipping the pancakes skilfully in the air.

(In all honesty though, flipping the pancakes was just pure luck. She's never been able to do that in her entire life and even though Brittany clapped along and marveled at her doing it, she's pretty sure her wide eyes, excited smile and surprised demeanor gave her own surprise off, even if she did try and play the _'I totally do that all the time' _card.)

They managed to get through grabbing the right cutlery, setting it onto the kitchen counter and taking a seat on the stools surrounding it.

They even managed to get through the first two pancakes, with both of them on opposites sides armed with forks and cheeky grins as they stabbed at each others mouthfuls.

But that was as far as they got.

After stealing each others bites, Santana lurched from her seat and rounded the counter, scooping a giggling Brittany up in her arms and kissing her with a mouthful of stolen pancake. She peppered kisses around the other girl's face, feeling the features crinkle and scrunch beneath her lips in a way she just knew was fucking adorable, until Brittany wriggled out of her embrace and darted away from the scene, Santana's fork (and her own) in hand.

That's where it all got pretty hazy, though. Because after running after the escaping blonde, and tackling her to the floor, Santana doesn't really know what happened next. All she knows is that she had intentions of picking Brittany up and falling onto the couch for a good make out session, but instead it turned into them being completely stark naked on Brittany's living room floor, trading sloppy kisses and fucking into next week.

Her body is pressed tightly to Brittany's, with one of her hands sliding down to the bend in a long leg and hiking it up until it wraps around her hip; so she can push deeper with every thrust and pull consecutive squeaks of approval from Brittany as she hits _that _spot.

She's panting heavily, rolling her hips until her body mimics a smooth wave as her hand drifts down between their bodies, thumb rolling lazily over the blonde's clit. Brittany's hips jerk hard into the motion, her mouth dropping further open as her hands come up to cup at flushed, tanned cheeks and eyes open, locking with dark brown. It rips the breath straight from Santana as she watches the pleasure wash over the other girl's face with every thrust she gives, and it makes the arousal and heat increase ten fold inside of her.

Working quicker, she dips her head to brush her lips over Brittany's softly, then moving to tilt their foreheads together as she works double time, keeping a fluid pattern with her hips and thumb to ensure a mind blowing orgasm for the other girl. Sweat builds upon her brow, and even though it's slipping into the late hours of the night, the humidity of the coming summer still lingers around them, making this situation a thousand times warmer than it would be in winter.

Santana slows her pace, grinding in a circular motion and holding in hilt deep with every other jerk of her hips until a sweet strangled groan escapes swollen pink lips. Enjoyment flows through her and she sits back onto her calves, sliding her hands to Brittany's waist and gently pulling until the other girl's ass cheeks and back is resting on top of her thighs. She glides one palm up taut abs, applying the lightest of pressures as she moves her hips again, rolling and grinding them, and trying not to think of how damn close she is because if she could, she'd totally just watch Brittany like this _forever._

With the other, she returns to her place at the blonde's folds, running her thumb through there and rolling the pad of it over the swollen nub at the top. Her eyes drift down to where they're connected, widening when their glistening arousal combines and shines in the dim light of the single lamp in the corner of the living room. It's a sight she's seen before, but only on other girls. And even then, she's never seen anyone be so damn ready for her. She closes her eyes at the heat flushing over her skin and picks up the pace, only returning her vision when she hears her name whispered through a groan.

Pale hands scramble up to grab at tanned ones, and Santana allows her hand motions to stop as Brittany tangles their fingers together. She smiles softly, the fatigue creeping up on her once more and then lowers herself on top of the other girl, pressing their hands to the space beside blonde hair as she begins to pound into Brittany below her unable to ignore the pressure building in the base of her spine, aching for release.

The sound of skin slapping echoes through the house, joining in with their grunts and groans, and Santana tips their foreheads together once more as the beginning of her orgasm begins to surge through her. Beneath her, Brittany's hips begin to jerk up, and Santana doesn't hesitate to quicken the pace to push both of them to a powerful ending.

"Come for me, baby," she gets out through a heavy breath. "Come for me," she repeats, and it only takes one, two, three deep and slow thrusts before Brittany squeals and tightens her grip on tanned hands, her head snapping back as pleasure shoots through her like a bolt of lightening.

Santana doesn't need any more than that and tips over the edge herself, spilling everything she has into the condom as she buries herself in as far as she can, marveling in the tight warmth that encompasses her member. Her eyes clench shut, but then snap open when hands cup at her cheeks and bring her in for a kiss that she can't seem to look away from. She's so close that all she sees is blue as Brittany stares back at her, and even though their bodies are twitching and rolling in the aftermath of their orgasms, she just can't seem to focus on anything else except these gleaming blue eyes.

_'Just look into her eyes' _runs through her mind and she hates the way Brittany's mom's words sink into her brain at a time like this because it's really fucking inappropriate. But then the clouds clear inside of her and then suddenly she gets it. Suddenly, it's like it's right _there_, written out in neon lights and sparkling signs. Something inside her mind clicks and she takes in a sharp gasp mid-kiss, reeling back only the slightest to confirm her realization.

The way Brittany's looking at her, with wide hope-filled eyes and nothing but sheer adoration flashing behind them. The way Brittany's looking at her with this '_you're my everything' _expression that makes her heart skip a beat. The way Brittany's looking at her like she's Brittany's person. The one person that everyone has that makes them the happiest and saddest they can possibly be. The one person that makes someone's life just a million times better just by being in it.

Because Santana _is _Brittany's person.

And Brittany is _her _person.

_That's _what Susan was talking about. Damn. How stupid is she for not being able to see that before?

The heat and arousal diminishes as their orgasms die out, and Santana waits a few seconds, and presses a few pecks to Brittany's lips before sitting back and sliding herself out from inside the blonde. She winces at the cool air and snaps the condom off, careful not to spill its contents as she grabs the nearest wrapper an empty almond joy one and wraps it up before throwing it into the waste basket beneath the coffee table.

Brittany smiles up at her, still remaining in her position on the floor, legs akimbo and chest heaving in and out. And Santana can't resist especially with the new addition of her realization to lean down and settle between the blonde's legs once more; her stomach pressed to the floor and chin resting just below Brittany's belly button.

"Hi," Brittany whispers, stroking her fingers along Santana's slightly sweaty forehead and brushing back the locks.

Santana, confused half by her post-coital daze and half by her sudden epiphany glances up through thick lashes and smiles, her finger tracing small circles around the other girl's navel. "Hey, beautiful."

A blush covers pale cheeks. "San..." Brittany whines through a chuckle, throwing her forearm over her eyes.

"What?" Santana presses her lips to Brittany's stomach and trails a path, up the dip in her stomach, between the valley of her breasts and up the column of her throat, over her chin until she catches her bottom lip between her own and sucks lightly. With one hand, she reaches up and takes away Brittany's arm, revealing embarrassed eyes.

The blonde lets out a heavy sigh, fingers tangling dark locks and staring at her. "I don't think you know how wonderful you are," Brittany informs her, her words speaking nothing but sincerity.

Something cold twangs inside of Santana's stomach, but she doesn't know what it is. "No, I'm not wonderful. At all."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"Santana," Brittany warns, lowly, pulling her down to press a kiss to her nose. "Trust me."

"I do, but just not with this," she rolls her shoulders in a small shrug.

If there's one thing she knows is that she's not wonderful, or good, or any of the things Brittany thinks she is. There's always been a part of her that knows what she is, and it's not due to a bad upbringing or a horrible experience, she just knows. That's the worst thing about it, she thinks, the fact that she doesn't have anyone or anything to blame. The reason she's a bad person is because she _chose _to be. That's all it really comes down to.

Even if she's trying this whole redemption thing, and trying to make up for the bad she's by screaming at Quinn and throwing away the uniform she uses as protection, it'll _never _make up for her past actions; not _any _of them.

But she can't say that. She can't say all these things and tell Brittany's everything she's done because there's no way in hell Brittany would ever be able to forgive her. All of these things she's done to scam innocent girls into sleeping with her... All these bets she's made and things she's done to get what she wants... _No-one _could ever forgive her for those, not even Brittany, especially because one of those things she's done evolved into _this. _Her and Brittany.

By the time she's snapped herself out of her thoughts, she realizes it's been a good thirty seconds since they've last spoken and now she's staring down at Brittany and doesn't have a clue what to say. So, as always, she plays it cool and lifts her head to gaze around the room, spotting something that she can instantly flip the conversation to.

"You are aware we're barely a metre from the couch, right?"

Brittany seems hesitant, but then shoots her a grin and pushes up, trading places until she's straddling one of Santana's thighs and rocking against her. "So?"

"So..." Santana starts, running her palms down the other girl's sides and feeling herself harden once more. "We didn't have to run the risk of getting carpet burn."

"Well... we haven't got carpet burn..." the blonde says, her eyes moving to the space above Santana's head like she's reading a script.

Santana's eyes narrow. "That's a good thing, though?" she says, unaware of where this is going.

"..._Yet,_" the other girl finishes and then smirks down at her.

It's only when Brittany's hand slips between their bodies and grabs at her, stroking her languidly that she realizes _exactly _where it's going. Her mouth drops open into a silent 'o' and then she brings Brittany's face down to kiss her.

They keep going until the first signs of carpet burn, but even then, they just move to the sofa and continue there.


	17. Part Seventeen

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Seventeen]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **10.2k  
**Author's Note:** Beta... You know how it is. Big hugs!  
**Author's Note 2: **I'm aware that some of the parenthesis might/are missing, but apparently FF doesn't allow it. So as a future notice, after this fic is finished I will be moving to another site to publish, like AO3 or Livejournal. FF is making some changes and no me gusta. Just a heads up though!

* * *

When she wakes up, Brittany's not in the room and she realizes how much she's starting to hate that, especially knowing that when she went to sleep last night, Brittany was in her arms. Although, that's something she knows she's going to have to get used to. There's no way in hell either of their parents will let them stay in the same bed together after this weekend.

_Hell, _this weekend was only freaking possible because Susan is up in Cincinnati with Grandma Pierce.

Which reminds her; not even sending a single text to her mom over the past two days was probably _not _the best idea. She's totally going to get an ear bashing when she gets home.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Santana ducks and sweeps up her boxers and bra, quickly shrugging them on as she heads towards the door. The smell of toast wafts through the air and she fills her lungs with it, breathing in deeply as her feet pad down the stairs and through the living room, pausing with wide eyes when they lock onto a dancing blonde.

Brittany's there, standing in a pair of dinosaur printed girl boxers, with an apron tied around her waist, a knot at the nape of her neck as it drapes over her torso like a backwards cape. She's swaying her hips from side to side, humming along and wiggling around to the low beat of music coming from the radio in the corner, whilst she's entirely focused on spreading jelly on a piece of toast she plucks out the toaster. Santana crosses her arms and ankles, and rests against the frame of the door as her eyes follow the other girl's movements, musing to herself how impossible it should be for Brittany to look so damn adorable and sexy at the same time.

It's seriously _ridiculous._

When the music dies down, and the radio presenter begins to speak over the dying tune, Brittany drops the jelly covered knife to the counter top and grabs the piece of toast, biting it between her two teeth to hold it as she hauls herself up onto the counter beside the chopping board. She begins tilting her head from side to side, probably still imagining the song just played and doesn't even notice Santana standing at the door, who's grinning widely to herself.

It's exactly four seconds later when she lets out a heavy sigh that grabs a hold of Brittany's attention. The blonde snaps her head up, face stretching into a large grin and eyes brightening by at least three shades as they meet chocolate brown ones. Santana ducks her head, shaking it whilst chuckling because the way the other girl looks at her just makes her feel so damn special, so damn adored and so damn _loved._

Pushing off the door frame, she makes her way towards Brittany, who holds out the toast in front of her face to take a bite when she gets there. She obliges, chewing on the food as her hands fall to pale thighs, parting them so she can slip between Brittany's legs until her stomach is touching the lip of the counter top. The blonde, for her part, shuffles forward until her ankles lock at the small of Santana's back, and pulls so their bodies are tightly pressed together.

Brown eyes do a trail of the other girl's body, her hands following the trail. "Why are you _just_ wearing an apron?" She asks, lips quirked into a curious smile. "Not that I'm complaining or anything..."

Brittany reaches out, running the pad of her thumb along Santana's bottom lip who narrows her eyes curiously. "You've got some jelly," the blonde girl explains, smiling and lifting her thumb to suck the jelly off it. "And I'm not _just _wearing an apron. Panties too."

"Okay..." Santana smirks and runs one finger along the waistband of dinosaur printed boxers. "So why are you wearing an apron and panties?"

"Well... I was cooking naked," the blonde swallows her mouthful and licks her lips. "But then I thought about how dangerous it could be with everything like..." her forehead pulls together and nose scrunches adorably. "...Hanging out."

Santana chuckles, lightly, leaning forward to greet her with a good morning kiss. "You weren't frying anything, though," she mumbles against Brittany's lips, stilling when she thinks over her words. "Were you?"

"Do you cook toast in a frying pan?" Brittany whispers back and Santana shakes her head. "No, neither do I."

"So why would it be dangerous?"

"There's knives... and forks... and spoons."

Santana's face contorts with amusement. "Spoons?"

"Yep," Brittany nods brightly and pecks her on the lips before hopping off the counter, swaying her hips as she glides over to the sink and places the chopping board in the soapy water there. "Studies have shown that an average of eight percent of people pour too little and twelve percent too much medicine onto a spoon when trying to treat cold and flu."

Bewildered, Santana moves around to the other girl's side, crosses her arms and cocks her hip against the counter. "How..." she narrows her eyes in disbelief. "How do you even know that?"

"I know lots of useless facts," Brittany doesn't take her eyes off the board she's scrubbing. "Like a polar bear is left handed and Venus is the only planet that rotates clockwise," she shoots a smile at Santana. "A duck's quack doesn't echo either."

"The duck thing I almost get..." Santana says, moving closer to Brittany and sliding her palms around her waist as she positions herself behind her. "But Venus and polar bears?"

The sound of the tap water prevents the blonde's answer for a few seconds. "I know things about our past presidents, too," Brittany's eyes light up as she twists her head to look at Santana. "If that helps?"

Santana chuckles, "Yeah, baby. That helps," she says and leans forward to press their lips together, not caring for the awkward angle. Sometimes Brittany's just so adorable and cute that Santana can't seem to get her mind and body to work together because she's kissing the girl before her mind even tells her too. She kind of loves that.

They hold still for a few seconds, just breathing out into the kiss and smiling when Brittany fumbles around to switch off the tap. Soon after, with the kiss staying intact, Santana feels the other girl twist in her arms and loop her arms around her neck, and another smile later, the kiss deepens as she inhales through her nose and tilts her head, tongue flicking against Brittany's lower lip.

It's almost instinctive for her hands to fall down to Brittany's hips, circle her waist and pull against the small of her back until there's no room between them. So when she does it, she's pretty shocked that hands come down to yank her own away and hold them down by her side, restricting the movement and intent to delve into a full on make out session.

She was sort of hoping that was where it was heading.

Santana pulls back, lower lip jutting out into a pout as she eyes her pinned down arms. Usually, she's all for dominant Brittany, but this kinda sucks; especially considering they're not even kissing anymore.

"What's the deal?" She asks, her voice mimicking a child's during a strop.

Brittany grins. "We should go out," she says

Santana's eyes dart from side to side, confused. "Why would we go out?" She asks, wiggling her arms out of the other girl's grip and placing her palms on the counter either side of Brittany's hips, lips starting their trail up a pale neck. "When we can just do this," she mumbles.

"Because..." Brittany's voice trails off as her head tilts. Santana smirks against the skin, flicking her tongue over the quickening pulse point.

"Because?"

"Because... We... Should..."

"Doesn't-," she lifts her head to kiss along Brittany's jaw. "-Sound like you're too invested in that idea."

Hands slide up her arms and over her biceps, but they stop there, gripping and pushing until Santana's staring into cloudy blue eyes. If this is a game, she's _totally _going to win.

"We should go out," Brittany tries again, her voice sounding a little more stern than before. "Go and do stuff."

Santana lowers her voice into a seductive rasp and smirks. "I thought we _were_ doing stuff..."

"No," Brittany offers an innocent smile and her mouth drops open. "I mean _other _stuff."

Santana shifts closer and moves her palms to toy with the tie at the back of the apron. Her eyes remain slightly hooded because, she won't lie, she's turned on. Brittany in an apron just... _Yes._ "Why would we go out and do _other _stuff when we can do stuff here?"

"Because," Brittany replies, punctuating her answer with a kiss. "Your stuff is sexy stuff. I'm talking about PG rated stuff."

Santana pouts again. "Anything PG rated sucks."

"So you don't just like spending time with me?" Fair eyebrows pull together. "This is about sex?"

Wide eyed, Santana shakes her head furiously and lunges forward, bringing Brittany into a tight embrace. Panic surges through her and she feels her heart suddenly racing at the thought of not having Brittany. "No, no, no," she disagrees. "Definitely not. No."

Brittany's arms slide around her neck and tighten as she laughs. "I was kidding, honey."

"Hmmm..." Santana squishes her cheek into the other girl's shoulder, frowning even though it can't be seen. "You're mean."

"Only a little. But we should still go out otherwise we'll both turn into hermits."

Santana lifts her head enough to bump their noses together. "Hermits?"

Brittany kisses her slow and soft. "Yeah, you know, a person who lives in seclusion from society," she whispers into her lips. "In the dark," she rubs the tip of her nose against a tanned cheek, their lips ghosting over each other. "And stuff," she ends with another kiss, dragging it out and sucking on Santana's bottom lip.

Santana melts into the feel of Brittany's mouth pressed against hers, all thoughts of anything else sinking from her mind as a tongue swipes across her lower lip. She retaliates on the next sweep, flicking her tongue over Brittany's and smiling when a moan reaches her ears. Brittany just kisses her harder and deeper until all oxygen is sucked from her lungs and a goofy smile curls at her lips as soon as they part.

In front of her, Brittany pulls herself onto the counter and dangles her legs over the side, spreading them when Santana eyes her suspiciously and then fits between them. Santana grins, hands falling to pale thighs as slender fingers tangle into her hair and tug until their mouths press against each other once more, warm breath trading between open mouthed kisses. She stretches onto her toes and strokes her tongue into Brittany's velvety warm mouth, smiling into the kiss when she hooks her fingers around the bend in the other girls knee and tugs so the fabric of the apron hikes up around Brittany's waist.

Stomach to crotch, she begins to rock them gently, the door of the counter below pushing against the growing bulge in her boxers. Heat floods over her skin, pooling low in her belly and she urges long legs around her hips, ankles locking at the small of her back to bring them impossibly close.

The kiss flips and suddenly it's Brittany in control, stroking her tongue into Santana's mouth and manipulating the angle with the hands at the base of Santana's neck and the fingers tangled in dark locks. But she keeps her side of the bargain, despite the intense difficulty she's having to even think, and tickles her fingers up the smooth skin of Brittany's thigh, underneath the small waistband of those ridiculous dinosaur printed girl boxers and inward to wet heat.

The precise laziness of Brittany's kissing is making her legs turn to freaking jelly, and to stop buckling to the floor in the middle of the kitchen, she drops her free hand to the counter and grips it tightly, knuckles turning white from the pressure. Her eyes roll into the back of her head and a moan escapes her when Brittany smiles into the kiss and chuckles throatily, keeping the bows of their lips touching and breaths trading.

That laugh is stupidly addictive though, and so the next thing Santana's aware of is the way their breasts are bumping and chests are heaving with uncontrollable laughter.

Giggling subsiding, she nudges Brittany's cheek with her nose and brushes their lips together, light chuckles still mixing between them as fingers loosen from her hair and drop to cup the nape of her neck. With her own hands, she moves her hands to tap her fingertips down the length of Brittany's back, mapping out every bump, contour and muscle there and opens her eyes to find hooded blue one staring right back.

She smiles sappily and brings their foreheads together, her heart flipping because when Brittany looks at her like this it makes her heart do somersaults.

"If we go out," she starts. "We should probably go soon."

Brittany's eyebrows pull together. "Why?"

"Because otherwise we won't be leaving," Santana replies, a smirk half-seductive and half-serious playing at her lips. "Not that I have much will to at the moment."

"You're silly," the blonde girl replies, scrunching her nose against Santana's adorably. "But that's a good idea."

Santana grins. "Awesome," she says, stepping away from Brittany and separating their bodies. Close proximity definitely won't help in aiding them to get out the front door.

* * *

Santana gets halfway through putting her top on before hands grip at her hips. Stilling her movement, and poking her head from the t-shirt, she raises an eyebrow at Brittany. "Can I help you?"

"How long is the mall open for?"

"Erm..." Santana bites her lip. "It's a Sunday, right?" Brittany nods. "Like, four I think."

Brittany glances towards the clock, reading 11:02am and then back and Santana looks at her for a few moments, wondering what the hell's going on. Then the tell tale sign flashes behind blue eyes and a wide grin etches its way across Brittany face.

Arousal shoots through Santana and with one quick motion, Brittany's whipped her own shirt off from around her neck, dropped it to the floor and pushed Santana towards the bed. She falls back, giggling and grinning and Brittany plants a knee each side of her hips, straddling her until their pelvises clash and she's tracing kisses up the valley of Santana's breasts.

"I thought we were-," Santana gulps when a tongue swipes along her collarbone. "-Going to the mall."

Brittany pulls up, dark eyed. "We were," she agrees and leans down, kissing Santana briefly. "But then you started putting clothes back on," she mumbles into her lips, kissing to punctuate her sentence. "And I realized how much I didn't like that," she finishes with a long, slow kiss that makes Santana's head dizzy.

Santana runs her palms up smooth thighs, debating her options. On one hand, she has a gorgeous blonde straddling her and kissing her, and on the other Brittany does kind of have a point. They haven't set foot outside the house since Friday night and should probably have _some _type of social interaction that doesn't include each other; even if it is just the cashier at _Auntie Anne's Pretzels._

_Fuck it_, she thinks as Brittany rolls her hips in a wave motion, _right _over her growing bulge.

_Auntie Anne_ can wait a little longer.

* * *

Around midday, Brittany rolls over to glance at the clock, stretching one arm way above her head and Santana just marvels in the rippling muscles in the girls back. _Seriously, _this girl is crazy hot. How did she get so damn lucky?

"We have four hours to get there, shop and get back," Brittany says, rolling onto her back and glancing between the clock and Santana.

Santana gets momentarily distracted by the sheet slipping down from the other girl's chest, revealing pale flesh and pink nipples. A napkin for her drool might be in order soon.

"The mall is like ten minutes away, Britt," she says, voice low and raspy. Brittany grins and props herself up, head in one hand with the other creeping across a taut, tanned stomach to draw imaginary circles there. She follows the raised edges of Santana's abs, lingers over the right hipbone and settles by grazing over each bump of Santana's ribs.

Santana shudders at the touch, eyes closing. "But I guess we've got some time," she breathes out, fatigue tugging at her bones.

"You're unbelievable," Brittany chuckles and Santana opens her eyes, rolls to her side, leans forward and kisses the space between Brittany's neck and shoulder, her hand moving down to grip at Brittany's hip.

"And you're rather gorgeous," she responds, following the column of Brittany's throat with her tongue. Heat blossoms over her skin and her hips jut forward, the beginnings of her erection pressing against the other girl's stomach.

"I thought we were going to the mall," Brittany gets out, her breath growing a little sharper as Santana grazes her teeth over her pulse point.

Santana smiles into her skin, nipping playfully. "Well an hour ago I thought we were too. But then I was halfway through getting dressed before _you_ stopped me," she sucks at the spot behind Brittany's ear briefly, swiping her tongue over the spot to soothe it. "And threw me on the bed."

"True," Brittany hums, turning her head and staring with dark blue eyes. Her hand comes down to Santana's on her hip and grabs it, slowly dragging it until it's between her legs.

But, quickly, Santana tears her lips away from Brittany's neck, sits up and throws her legs over the side of the bed, hand moving away. Behind her, Brittany makes a confused sound and reaches out, attempting to grab at any part of Santana to tug her back to the bed, but speed has always been on her side and so she darts out the way.

"Nope," she wags her finger in a 'no' motion. "We're going to get up now."

Brittany pouts her bottom lip out and _God, _she looks so freaking cute it's unreal. "You said we have four hours," she tries, making her voice sound all innocent; something which shouldn't be so damn cute considering she's butt naked in her bed right now.

Santana shakes her head, giggling, and finds her boxers beneath her feet, instantly slipping into them. "Well, I have to head home first, grab my car keys and some contact lenses," she pulls the fabric up one leg and wrinkles her nose when she eyes up her jeans from the other night. "And some fresh clothes," she heads towards her pants and slips them on too. "Then come back here and pick you up."

Brittany still seems to dislike the plan for the day. "We could just..." she trails her finger in a circle on the mattress, buffing out her chest and smirking. "Stay here?"

Eyelashes flutter and Santana stills, one arm through her t-shirt and the other hanging out. Her jaw drops open and she has to squeeze her eyes shut against the sudden arousal coiling inside her stomach. That's just not fair.

"Stop playing dirty," she warns, playfully. "You suggested it and what you want-,"

"-I get," Brittany finishes, grinning. "Which is _exactly _why you should get back here," she palms the sheets. "And kiss me."

Santana rolls her eyes, feeling her chest bloom and takes two steps forward, balled fists pushing into the mattress when she leans down. "I'll definitely kiss you," she whispers against Brittany's lips, a second before bringing them together and kissing her slowly, tongue poking out to sweep along the other girl's lower lip. "But that's it," she says firmly and moves away, resuming dressing herself.

Brittany smirks from her position, shifting until she's on her knees and crawling to the foot of the bed where Santana's buckling up her belt. Finger hook into the waistband of her jeans, tugging Santana forward until she has to reach up to brace herself against pale shoulders, stroking the soft skin there.

"Can I at least come with you?" Brittany asks, widening her eyes and smiling innocently.

Santana drops into a crouch. This girl makes her go weak at the knees. "Babe, you need to get dressed. You may have been able to watch me dress-," Brittany mouth opens but Santana cuts her off before the protest comes out. "-the _second _time, but I sure as hell wouldn't be able to wait until your shirt was halfway on."

"But-,"

"But nothing, Britt," she twists her hand around Brittany's neck and cups it, tilting their foreheads together. "I'll be back in like a half hour."

Wordlessly, the blonde girl nods and kisses her. All thoughts of wanting to leave and shopping almost seep straight out her mind when fingers tangle in through her hair and scrape gently at her scalp. Fully aware of what Brittany's trying to do, and how she's slowly being pulled onto the bed, Santana draws back and then presses four consecutive pecks to the other girl's lips in consolation for leaving. Something grows heavy inside her chest and it dawns on her just how much she really doesn't want to fucking leave, or how even the thought of being away from Brittany is painful.

"Half an hour," Brittany whispers into her mouth, kissing her one final time. "And if you're not here then I'll be sad," her bottom lip sticks out into a small pout.

Santana leans in and sucks it gently, pulling away only seconds later to stare into bright blue. "I promise," she says and then stands, pressing a final kiss to Brittany's forehead before heading out the bedroom door.

She almost runs straight into the door frame when she hears Brittany call, "I'll miss you," and doesn't hesitate when turning and bolting straight back to the blonde, kissing her for long moments before she leaves.

* * *

Twenty seven minutes later and she's standing outside Brittany's house, leaning against her car and swinging her keys in a loop around her index finger. Sunglasses are propped on top of her head, holding back her hair and she's wearing a fresh set of clothes; a loose white shirt with a tank top as an undershirt, jeans and black Converses. Normally she wouldn't be caught dead in such a casual outfit, but she's beginning to find out that she just doesn't really give a damn about people and their opinions of her.

One foot is planted up against the passenger side door, back against it too, and she's waiting patiently for Brittany to come out her house after the text she sent a few seconds ago. Already, her heart is beating erratically. Just the mere knowledge that in a few more moments she'll be with Brittany creates a lightness in her chest that disappeared for those twenty seven minutes; a lightness that brings a smile to her face that she just can't fight.

It's kind of stupid, because she knows at some point she's going to have to part from Brittany for more than half an hour, but right now she's just trying not to focus on that. She'll be with Brittany now, and for the rest of the day, and nothing else matters.

The front door swings open and seconds later a flash of blonde comes through it, bright eyed with a grin the size of America spread across her face. Santana pushes off the car, and meets the girl halfway, instantly being greeted with a tight hug that she quickly returns. She buries her face into the crook of Brittany's neck and breathes in the citrus scent wafting up from her skin, marveling at the sense of reunion surrounding them, despite it being less than half an hour since their last meeting.

Brittany breaks the hug first, pulling back only the slightest to bring their lips together in a kiss that makes Santana's heart skip at least three beats.

"Hi," she whispers, nudging her nose against Santana's and smiling.

Santana breathes out unsteadily, hands falling to the other girl's hips and holding there. "Hey, you."

Brittany chuckles and then kisses her again before tangling their fingers together and tugging a dazed Santana towards the car. She stumbles forward, reaching with her other hand to grab at Brittany's wrist as she tries to find some grounding mentally and physically. Driving in this condition probably wouldn't be the best idea so stability is needed.

When she manages to kick start her brain again, they're by the car and Brittany's smiling at her with this look that makes her pause. Did she miss something?

"Why are we not getting in the car?"

"Because you've forgotten to do something."

Santana pulls her eyebrows together, confusion etching into her features. Her mouth pops open to ask the other girl to elaborate when blue eyes flicker towards the passenger door and then it's only a matter of seconds before it clicks inside her brain. Opening the door for Brittany. Right.

Stretching one arm out, she pulls on the handle of the passenger door and opens it, minding not to bash Brittany with the door because that would totally ruin the gesture. Brittany grins at her, eyes beaming and Santana brings their still tangled fingers up to her mouth, pressing her lips to the back of a pale hand as she ushers Brittany inside the vehicle. With one of Brittany's feet in the foot well of the car, Santana lifts their clasped hands high in the air as if the girl doesn't have long enough legs to climb in to help her in.

"Why thank you," Brittany blushes and tucks one hand between her bare knees; she's wearing a skirt and Santana's finding it hard not to stare at the amount of smooth skin showing.

Santana tears her eyes away from long legs and up to blue eyes. She winks. "No problem, m'lady," she says, faking a Medieval accent. Cheesy, she knows.

They stare at each other for about fifteen more seconds before Santana realizes that they're _actually _staring and clears her throat. It's hard not to get distracted by someone as beautiful as Brittany. After all, the blonde is hands down the most gorgeous girl Santana's ever laid eyes on and it'd be silly for her not to just take a few moments every now and then to gaze at her, now that she can publicly and all.

Santana shuts the door and rounds the front of the car, quickly climbing into the drivers seat. "Shall we get going?" She offers, slipping the keys into the ignition and changing the gear shift into drive

Brittany reaches over and places her hand over the back of Santana's on the gear stick, sliding her fingers through the gaps in Santana's to hold. "Yeah," she agrees, smiling.

Santana forgets how to breathe for a few long seconds and then snaps herself out of it, licking her drying lips as she peels away from the curb.

* * *

It's all pretty surreal, walking around the mall with her fingers threaded through Brittany's and their shoulders bumping with every other step. Due to her reputation and status as co-captain of the Cheerios, she was pretty much used to being stared and talked about, but she thinks it's the fact that she doesn't have the Cheerios, or Quinn, or her stone cold façade to protect her from these stares, that starting to scare her.

"They're staring. I know they're staring. I can feel them just eying us up, Britt," she whispers frantically, eyes darting around.

Brittany chuckles next to her. "You just _think _they are," she reassures her. "They're not actually staring."

Santana clenches her jaw and quickens the pace, moving towards _Forever 21 _in the far corner of the mall. "They are," she turns her head and says the words harshly against Brittany's shoulder. "Seriously, can we just leave now?"

"And go where?"

"I don't know, just away from here."

She squeezes Brittany's hand, repeating to herself mentally that Brittany's here beside her, being the strength she can't summon. Brittany is _here, _next to her and holding her hand and is staying here to help her through all her insecurities. Because, before now, Santana's never had to put up with all these high school worries like backstabbing and judgmental stares. _Hell, _usually she was the one doing those things because she was at the top of the pile, metaphorically shitting on everyone below her and doing whatever the hell she wanted.

But now she's not. Now everyone knows how the mighty has fallen. How Santana Lopez went from being the biggest bitch to walk McKinley High's hallways, glaring at anyone that dared to meet her narrowed stare with an equally powerful Quinn Fabray beside her, as she pushed one of the many singing musical freaks into the locker, to holding one of those 'singing musical freaks' hands and wishing, in some ways, that she never gained the popularity she once grasped.

Because then, this surge of panic flowing through her wouldn't be happening. Then, she would be able to walk the corridors and Lima's _only _mall without the fear of someone talking about her or curling a lip at her. _Then, _she wouldn't be staring into blue eyes and just knowing that she's hurting Brittany by showing this irrational fear.

"Let's just leave," Brittany's face shades with disappointment as her grip on Santana's hand loosens. "This was a stupid idea," she breathes in deeply and sighs it out.

Santana's heart sinks as she picks up her head, turning her gaze to Brittany who drops her hand completely and crosses her arms over her chest, body twisting to walk in the opposite direction. Her heart rate picks up and she looks around, counting four, five, _six _people that actually _are _staring at her and a walking away Brittany, and she panics, panics for a whole other reason than she was panicking a minute ago.

With Brittany holding her hand, she can handle those stares. With Brittany, she can deal with all the shit thrown at her. But without her, her palm and heart feels like ice and it's like she doesn't quite know what to do and where to go.

It's rather ridiculous considering the length of time they've known each other for, but she doesn't care. Romeo and Juliet fell hard the moment they met and that's one of the most epic love stories of all time.

"Britt-," she chokes out, feeling her chest seize as Brittany continues walking. She moves swiftly, starting into a quick jog and tugging on the other girl's wrist to stop her. Heat floods up to her face and she gulps audibly, feeling the nerves flutter inside of her stomach as the intensity of people staring weighs down on her.

Right now, she's not even sure that she even freaking _knows _the people looking at them, but it's the fact that they are that creates this stupid fear inside of her.

Brittany stops, looks down to Santana's hand on her wrist sadly and exhales heavily.

"Santana," she starts. "I know this is a big change for you. You know, walking around with... someone like me," her eyes flicker around and gloss over and guilt surges through Santana. She balls her fist in reaction. "So if you don't want to be seen with me, you just have to say. I'm used to it, but I'd just prefer for you to tell me if this is a mistake before we get in too deep." Santana flinches and pulls her face together incredulously, but Brittany continues. "Because I understand that you're scared, but I just-"

Santana sees the waterworks come before they actually do and jolts forward, hands coming up to cup at Brittany's cheeks.

"I'm not scared," she interrupts. "I want to be seen with you. I just..." she glances over the other girls shoulder and sees Quinn and a few of the Cheerios standing by _Auntie Anne's Pretzel's, _staring at her with curled lips and bared teeth. If this were Animal Planet they'd be about three seconds away from lurching on Santana and Brittany and attempting to tear them to pieces.

Those thoughts aside, Santana glances back to Brittany and feels her heart thump loudly against her ribcage. She was sure she already did this part; already done the part where she proved to Brittany that she didn't care about anyone else. _Fuck, _she even fucking did it in front of McKinley's finest and most popular at Noah fucking Puckerman's party! That whole Santana vs. Quinn blow-out was been the biggest news on freaking Twitter for the past two days.

But now, with Brittany standing here staring at her and asking the improbable of her, it seems that somehow she's been backtracking her steps;

"I thought I proved that to you at Puckerman's party," Santana breathes out, searching blue eyes and shuffling forward until there's barely an inch between them. "I thought I'd shown you what you mean to me and how little everyone else does... But if I-I haven't," she pauses and feels hopelessness flow through her. "If I haven't," she starts again, eyes flicking down then up again. "Then I..."

She ducks her head and feels fingers curl around her wrists, heat pricking at her eyes as all words slip from her mind. Disappointment runs through her veins and weighs at her heart so it's hard and heavy on her chest because she doesn't know what the hell to say. She thought she'd done her part, done the whole proving thing to Brittany.

She feels the sadness claw up her throat and lodge until she has to swallow thickly and fight back the tears because thinking that she's let Brittany down is most definitely one of the worst feelings possible, and now it's all she can fucking think about.

_God, _she knew leaving the house was a bad idea. However, before the tears can get the better of her, she's interrupted by Brittany grabbing her forearm and pulling her into the shadows of one of the mall's alcoves.

"You did," Brittany tries to reassure her but it doesn't work. If Brittany didn't have any qualms about _them, _she wouldn't have ever mentioned anything. Santana fucking hates that, almost as much as she hates these stupid insecurities of hers and how this conversation is making her feel so damn vulnerable.

"Santana, look at me-you did," Brittany repeats. "But I just don't know how to be with someone that doesn't know how to be with herself."

The words slice through Santana, fear and sadness mixing inside of her and she lifts her gaze to stare into sad blue eyes, seeing a plea that she just doesn't know how to fulfill. The plea to be comfortable and to let go of her past just so she can embrace the future. The worst part about this, Santana thinks, is that she's not entirely sure when she can do what Brittany wants.

Not wanting to argue, or to have this conversation, she shifts on her feet and worries her lower lip between her teeth. "Can we..." she swallows and sucks in her lips.

There's pretty much nothing inside of her that wants to have this conversation. It's turning all serious and shit and like, she can't have this perfect weekend ending on a sour note. She just wants to end this day and her time with Brittany with kisses, lingering touches and smiles that make her heart skip a beat. She just wants to pretend for a little while longer that her life isn't as complicated as it is, that it's not going to change completely come tomorrow, when she turns up and school and undoubtedly receives a whole lot of shit from a bunch of people that know fuck all about her life; the same bunch of people who would like to think they do and then proceed to judge her.

"Can we just like, not talk about this right now? This weekend has been amazing and I don't know how to show or tell you that I'm not scared to be seen with you."

Brittany shakes her head but presses her lips together, hands dropping to their sides and fingers tangling together. "I don't mean that you're scared to be seen with me," she breathes out but looks up, smiling with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "But we won't talk about it now," this time it's Brittany's turn to cup Santana's cheeks. "Okay?"

Santana sucks in a deep breath and nods. "Okay," she whispers at the same time Brittany brings their mouths together, kissing her softly. Her hands circle the other girl's waist, slipping underneath the hem of Brittany's top to press square against the small of her back. They stay like that, lips and bodies pressed together, for a few moments until Brittany pulls back barely an inch and stares at her intently.

"We'll have to talk about it sometime, though," she mutters. "You know that, right?"

Santana nods feebly, feeling her heart thud loudly against her chest. She's not sure whether the increase in heart rate is due to the close proximity between her and Brittany or that feeling, the one where she knows she's doing something wrong, growing more and more.

"Yeah," she says after a minute. "I know."

Brittany kisses her one more time and then links their pinkies together, before tugging them out of the shadows and back into the mall.

* * *

By the time they leave the mall, it seems Brittany bought half of _H&M _and ate at least seven pretzels.

Seriously, considering how much Brittany ate, it's almost hard to believe that underneath that flimsy blouse is a mouth-watering set of abs with defined edges and a toned dip running straight up the center. The girl must have a crazy work out routine or had a lucky draw in the 'metabolism' raffle when she was younger, 'cause that body is _insane._

Although as soon as an image of that particular stomach flashes into Santana's mind, it flashes straight back out and is replaced with the memory of her running her tongue down that dip and flicking it through hot flesh merely seconds later. Shudders reverberate down her spine and her eyes flutter shut in reaction, heat blooming over her skin and settling low in her gut.

But she shakes them off because here they are, clambering out Santana's car and lugging the bags out the boot and there's no room for _those _kind of thoughts with all the shit she's got to lug into the house.

There's at least six full-to-the-brim shopping bags here, all the extra large ones that the cashiers have to head into the back of the shop to grab, and sure, Santana's got some muscle on her from those rigorous cheerleading workouts, but even this is a struggle. Whoever knew clothes could be so damn heavy?

"Jesus, Britt. How much did you buy?" Santana hauls the last bag out of the boot and shrugs the others up her arm to make room for it. The handles are basically cutting off her blood supply, and now she's kind of regretting the choice to be the 'gentleman' and carry all of Brittany's bags to her door. But, then again, she guesses if it gets a smile from Brittany then a lack of blood circulation is totally worth it.

"You were with me," Brittany comes up to her and kisses her on the cheek, reaching down with one hand to take two of the bags. "And you did help me pick out a few outfits."

Santana smirks because _yeah, _she did help pick out the outfits. Watching Brittany through the small gap in the changing room curtain was sort of perverted, now she thinks of it, but totally worth it when Brittany caught her, grabbed her by the collar and dragged her inside for a little make out session.

"That was a rhetorical question," she replies, grinning as Brittany reaches up and slams the boot of the car shut. "And don't pretend like you didn't like me checking you out in those tiny skirts and tight dresses," she says, heading towards the Pierce household, her mind flashing with images of Brittany whipping open the changing room stall's curtains and twirling to show the way the majority of the clothes clung to her body. That was pretty difficult for Santana to stay routed on the little bench outside the stall.

"I guess it wasn't too bad," Brittany teases, then bumps their hips together and slips the key into the lock, opening the front door with a quick twist.

Santana tilts her head to the side and watches the other girl step over the threshold, place the bags down by the bottom of the stairs and then twirl around; her eyes, smile and face instantly lighting up the second she looks at Santana. It feels like she's been watching her for ages by the time blue eyes connect with brown, but even then Santana doesn't stop staring, just offers a small smile that barely tugs at her lips and heads inside, taking a step towards Brittany as the bags slip down off her forearm.

Long arms come up and wind around her neck as her hands fall to Brittany's hips, and she smiles, inhaling the citrus wafting up from the blonde girl's skin and feeling her head dizzy with the sheer proximity of their bodies. The tips of their shoes bump as the shift and a sound that can only be an angel's giggle flows through Santana's ears, until she feels her eyes flutter shut and an idiotic smile etch across her face.

Because like, _God, _she's fucking crazy about Brittany. Just everything Brittany does is amazing; whether it's something mundane like opening a damn door or placing bags down on the freaking floor. Everything she does just seems to amaze Santana.

Lips press against the tip of her nose, breaking her thoughts and Santana scrunches it before tilting her head back.

"What was that for?" She asks, a little breathless.

Brittany shrugs and smiles. "Just because you're..." she starts. "Sweet," she leans in and kisses Santana's right cheek. Santana smiles underneath the touch. "Kind," she kisses Santana's left cheek. "You make me feel like I'm the most beautiful person in the world, " she sighs and then pecks Santana's chin. "When really, you are," she barely brushes her lip against Santana's bottom one before tipping their foreheads together until all Santana can see is blue. "And because I can't explain to you how amazing this weekend has been."

Santana's mouth drops open but no words come out. Something lodges in her throat and she swallows against it thickly, feeling tears well up in her eyes. No-one has ever made her feel like this. _No-one. _And whereas before she was content with the loneliness she felt, she doesn't know now if she'll ever be able to get that feeling again, and that scares the shit out of her.

"Britt," she starts, wanting to say those thoughts, like how she doesn't want to feel this damn vulnerable, but at the same time she does. How Brittany makes her feel like the luckiest person in the world, but at the same time, the stupidest because Brittany just drives her fucking insane. All she wants to do is be around her now, to hold Brittany in her arms and breathe in her apple shampoo every single night before she goes to sleep.

But she doesn't know how to say it.

How is she supposed to tell Brittany that she's everything she's ever wanted? That now, she can't ever go without? Because once you've had a taste of perfection everything else just pales in comparison?

How is hell is she supposed to say that?

She bites her own lip in thought and then shakes it off, knowing it's too damn complicated and terrifying to voice anyway. Speaking about her feelings has never been a strength of hers, anyway, so the chances that she'd fuck it up are pretty damn high and that's something she's not even entirely sure she _can _say. They've known each other for a matter of weeks and have only _just _embarked on the intimate side of things.

So, instead, she settles for breathing out a heavy sigh and reaching up to cup Brittany's cheek, her thumb stroking over the skin gently.

"Thank you," she whispers, eyes roaming around the other girl's face as her chest tightens. Somehow Brittany manages to be more beautiful every day. "Thank you for... everything."

It sounds a lot like something else, but despite Brittany's eyes shading and face twitching with curiosity and knowing, she stays quiet, smiles in response and then leans in, sliding her hand up Santana's neck and twisting around it. She pulls lightly, and Santana allows her eyes to flutter shut when Brittany's top lip hovers between her own, barely even touching, but touching enough to make her pulse to pick up considerably so.

Hardly a second passes before Brittany pulls away and Santana pouts immediately, face scrunching in disapproval. All she wants to do is kiss Brittany because it's been about two hours since she's done so, and in the past two days, they've only gone without kissing for more than half an hour like, two times. And that was because apparently sleep is a human necessity or some other bullcrap.

Other than that, they haven't gone any longer without and now Santana's starting to realize just how much she's going to miss that. Among other things, obviously, but like, being able to kiss Brittany is such an amazing feeling and now she's got about ten minutes before she should probably be going home seeing as her eyes sting like a bitch from the lack of contacts all weekend, and her mom is undoubtedly curious about her whereabouts this weekend.

So, taking initiative and allowing her thoughts to take a hold of her body, Santana voices that disapproval with a low grunt and presses forward until they're kissing again, slow, soft and tender. She takes Brittany's lower lip between her own and sucks gently, her hand sliding down until she can loops her arms around the other girl's body and clasp her hands together at the back. Pale arms immediately wrap around her neck, forearms pressing into her shoulders and hanging between her shoulder blades as the kiss deepens and Santana feels Brittany's eyelashes flutter against her cheek.

A sigh escapes her lips as they part, but this time it's Brittany to reconnect their lips and she's only too happy to oblige. Brittany drags her lips upward, over both of Santana's lips and catches the tip of her nose before moving down until she can suck at her top lip. The move completely catches Santana off guard, and it pulls a strange groan from her throat as she presses harder and feels heat blossom over every inch of her skin.

She's about two seconds from sliding her hands down Brittany's thighs and underneath the fabric of her skirt when she becomes aware of someone clearing their throat behind her. Lips stilling, Santana pulls away and twists her head a little to see the source of the sound, and this time heat pricks at her cheeks for an entirely different reason than it did a minute ago.

A light chuckle fills her ears and she takes her hands away from underneath Brittany's top, where they were resting on the bare skin of the blonde girl's hips, and stands up straight, putting a little space between her and a very flustered, swollen lipped looking Brittany.

It feels like she's just been caught doing something she shouldn't – which _yeah, _probably is bordering on the right lines because the front door's still open and she and Brittany were making out like nobody's business for all the neighbors to see – so when an arm slips around her waist and tugs gently, she flinches and feels her entire body tense because Brittany's mom is like, _right fucking_ _there._

"You're back early, mom," Brittany finally says, breaking the weird silence but with what can only be known as a 'bedroom voice.'.

Santana gulps and drops her gaze to the ground. Her converses are looking incredibly interesting at the moment so she's just going to focus on them, in opposed to the obvious arousal coursing through both her and Brittany and reflecting in pink cheeks and ears.

"Yes," Susan starts and Santana can't see, but she swears she hears a smirk in the older woman's voice. "Madison wasn't feeling too great."

"Oh, what's wrong with her?"

"I don't know. We were just with Grandma Liz and her temperature shot up."

Santana shoves her hands into her pockets and rocks up onto the balls of her feet, unwilling to say anything because usually in this situation – being caught making out with someone's daughter – the parent is chasing Santana down the street or yelling at her by now, so this is a pretty new experience for her.

Not to mention, the last conversation she and Mrs Pierce shared was one about Brittany, one that included _feelings _and knowing how Brittany felt just by looking into her eyes, and now the older woman's just walked in on them making out and even in a normal situation that would be uncomfortable. So, add in their previous conversation and Santana pretty much just wants to go and find a hole to curl up in and stay in for a year or two.

"Santana?"

Santana snaps her head up, unaware she was being spoken to.

"Will you be staying for dinner?"

Santana coughs and clears her throat at the question. "Uhm, actually, Susan," she looks towards Brittany who's staring at her with a strange expression and realizes she hasn't told her that she needs to go home. Now it'll look like Susan is affecting her decision. _Great. _"My mom will probably want me home," she offers a light tipped smile when she glances back to the older blonde. "I haven't even text her this weekend, so no doubt I'm going to be in shi-_trouble._"

Susan chuckles and takes a step towards her, brushing her hand over Santana's shoulder, whose eyes are wide and panicked. "You can curse, Santana," she shakes her head, still laughing and moves back again. "But if you'd like to stay for dinner you're more than welcome," the older woman bends down and picks up a brown grocery bag from the floor.

(Santana doesn't know how the hell she missed that. Probably a little too occupied with Brittany's mouth.)

"Thank you," she says. "But I really should be getting home."

"Okay, sweetie," Susan hikes the bag underneath her arm, resting the bottom of it against her hip as she turns and looks between the two girls. "Well, I'll just let you two say goodbye and _things_..." she trails off, winks and then heads back towards the kitchen - presumably where she came from before - and Santana feels herself blush harder.

It takes a few moments, but then the tell tale signs of pans clanging together come through the house and Santana feels her shoulders slump, her entire body relax. She turns to Brittany, who's eying her strangely and the fleeting wonder of how long she's been doing that passes through her mind.

"What?" She asks, rubbing her hand over her forehead.

Brittany steps closer, hands coming up to play at the neckline of Santana's top and eyes focused on the movement. She doesn't say anything for long moments, just runs her finger back and forth, pulling lightly and then releasing it as her chest heaves in and out with steady breaths.

The curiosity burns through Santana at first, but then she becomes acutely aware of how close Brittany is to her and feels a smile etching across her face that she just can't fight. Her eyes flicker over every single one of Brittany's features, over her forehead, across her brows, down along the lines of her catlike eyes and then linger over the curve of her high cheekbones and it makes her hands shake at their position on Brittany's hips.

"You're not..." Brittany starts and Santana flinches a little, surprised by the volume of Brittany's voice in comparison to the soft sighs of her breathing. "You're not leaving because of my mom," she asks, blue eyes slowly drifting up until they're staring at each other. "Are you?"

"No," the reply is immediate. "I'm not. I'm serious about my mom," Santana shuffles forward until their noses are squashed together. "Fern too, actually. They're both probably wondering where I've been all weekend."

"You didn't see them earlier?"

Santana shakes her head. "Nope-well," she corrects herself. "I didn't really have time to notice cos I ran upstairs and did my _thang _and straight back out again."

A smirk plays at pink lips. "_Thang?_" Brittany repeats, brow arching playfully. "Did you really just say _thang?_"

"You know how we do."

It earns a small chuckle from Brittany. "You're silly," the blonde says, sliding her hands around to the base of Santana's neck and playing with the hair there. "And seriously _un_-ghetto."

Santana's fingers flex and dip underneath the hem of the other girl's top whilst her face portrays feigned offense. "I come from Lima Heights Adjacent, baby," she winks and the blonde grins. "Baddest of the bad."

"And now you're just a dork," Brittany says matter-of-factly, leaning in at the same time, but there#s affection in her tone and it makes Santana's stomach all light and fluffy.

Not even a second later, kisses, small but tender, press against her lips in concession until she smiling and pressing forward, transforming pecks into a slow, dragged out kiss that makes her heart thump loudly against her ribcage. Fingers loosen from the nape of her neck and stroke over her pulse point underneath her ear - which jumps at the touch - and she hums happily into Brittany's mouth, wishing that this weekend could just go on forever.

There's nothing better than being with Brittany, she thinks, nothing, and if she had the power to, she'd just lock her and Brittany in a room where nothing could get to them. Because whether she likes it or not, come tomorrow, everything will change, not for the better, either.

"Do you-," Brittany doesn't stop kissing her as she mumbles into her mouth. "-Really have to-," she sucks in her bottom lip and runs her tongue along the edge. "-Go?"

Santana groans but nods. "Yeah, Britt," she sighs. She doesn't want to go _at all. _"I wish I could stay though," she tips their foreheads together. "Like, _really _wish."

"If only I were Hermione," Brittany sighs out the words and bumps their noses together.

"Then I'd be your Ron," Santana replies, grinning. "Except a lot cuter and less... ginger."

The blonde giggles and kisses her, arms coming around to wrap around Santana's neck as the kiss deepens and they're making out again, this time with the door shut and no elder Pierce watching over her shoulder. It's soft, but hot at the same time, and Santana wonders if anything needs to be said about this weekend and how they're going to act at school in comparison, because it won't be the same. They can still be together but the change will be so drastic that Santana knows she'll need time to adjust.

Not to mention she's going to have to hand in her uniform to Coach Sue and no doubt _that _will be a bundle of fun. Although, she thinks she might be able to do it if Brittany's by her side and holding her hand.

"Thank you," she whispers as they break apart. And there are many things she wants to add onto the end of that sentence. Many, _many _things, like '_for showing me who I can be', _or '_for choosing me', _or even '_for letting me feel what others talk about', _but she just can't seem to bring herself to do it. They have a lot of things they need to discuss now, things about _them _and what they are and all that jazz, but right now Santana can't handle having that conversation.

And if she thought walking into school with everyone knowing that she gave up everything she had to be with Brittany was bad, then she was horribly mistaken. 'The talk' could potentially ruin her life, or make it the best that it can be but she's just hoping that she can postpone it and enjoy their time together without any complications including labels and talks.

But it seems Brittany gets that, because instead of questioning the gratitude, she quirks her lips up into a small smile and then pulls Santana into a tight embrace.

Santana can't help but feel uneasy about that smile as she rests her chin upon Brittany's shoulder.

* * *

**If anyone is interested in what Santana's car looks like, it's here (just remove the brackets and spaces):**

**http (:)/upload (.) wikimedia (.) org/wikipedia/commons/c/c6/BMW_X3_ **


	18. Part Eighteen

**Title: **Waiting On The World To Change [Part Eighteen]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count: **13.3k

* * *

It took about ten minutes of Brittany peppering kisses around her face and rubbing her hands soothingly up and down her arms for Santana to calm down after Becky Jackson came up to her in the car park – rudely interrupting her and Brittany's second 'good morning' kiss inside the car – to tell her that Sue wanted to see her in her office pronto.

And now, Coach Sylvester is sitting behind her desk, glasses propped on the end of her nose and eyes scanning over the few sheets of paper she's holding when Santana finally steps inside her office.

Narrowed eyes glare up to her and she sucks in a deep breath, willing her voice to keep its strength. "You wanted to see me, Coach?"

"Sandbags," Sue says, throwing the papers onto the desk where they scatter untidily. "Take a seat."

Feet shaking, Santana closes the small gap between her and the nearest chair and sits obediently, clutching her Cheerios uniform in her right hand and tucking her other hand by her ribs.

Ever since she bypassed her uniform this morning for a pair of overalls and a plain tank top underneath, she's been feeling a little bare. Hell, since clambering out the car this morning on shaking legs, she's felt like she's in one of those dreams where she's naked and wandering around with everyone gawping at her. To say it's uncomfortable is like saying an open flame is slightly warm; complete _bullshit_.

"I've heard that at one Noah Puckerman's party this weekend, you and Q had a little..." Sue's eyes narrow as she tries to find the right word and the butterflies in Santana's stomach tenfold in speed, bumping around like nobody's business. "...disagreement over what I understand to be a crush?"

Santana's fists clench immediately, digging into her side. The urge to scream at Coach for referring to Brittany as a 'crush' makes her stomach gurgle with anger but then she realizes she has no idea what else to call her. They're not dating; seeing each other, maybe, but nothing's official so she can't argue. As far as everyone else is concerned, that's what Brittany is to Santana; just a _crush_.

"We did have an argument," she says, keeping her anger tame and voice steady.

"And it was over a crush?"

Santana clamps her jaw shut and then mumbles through pressed lips, "It was over the Glee club as well as a girl, yes."

At that, Sue jerks back, back straight and eyes growing wide. "The Glee club?" She repeats in a hiss. "You had a fight with your co-captain over Glee club?"

"I did," Santana agrees, knowing she spent a good ten arguing with Quinn in front of a room full of people, so having it out with Coach Sue for a few minutes should be equally as difficult. It seems all she's doing nowadays is arguing with everyone; bar Brittany of course. But Brittany's an exception; always an exception.

Sue studies her for long moments, resting both her elbows into the arms of her chair and leaning back.

"You are aware this puts your position of co-captain in jeopardy?" She says in more of a statement than a question. It's only when Santana glances down to her outfit that Sue catches on. "But judging by your lack of uniform you know that."

"I do know that, but it was my choice."

"So..." Sue leans forward once more, forearms pressing to the desk. "You're choosing a girl over Cheerios, your reputation and your high pony?"

Santana feels a smile tug at her lips when she catches Brittany through the slight open blinds, but she bites it down. If she's going to ditch Cheerios, the least she can do is explain to Coach why she's doing so. After all these years, it's sad to be leaving the squad but she's not happy with who she is. And whether or not Sue yells at her or waves her away with a sad smile, she's going to stick to it because this is who she wants to be. This is the Santana she likes.

"No, Coach," she fingers the edge of her Cheerios uniform and sucks in her lips. "I'm choosing to go through the rest of my Senior year being who I _want _to be," she looks the older woman in the eye. "Not who everyone else wants me to be."

Sue rolls her eyes but her lips are curled and Santana's almost shocked that she nearly made Sue Sylvester – the woman who supposedly took part in the capture of General Noriega – fucking _smile_.

"Very well," the older woman stretches out her hand and wiggles her fingers. "Come on Boobs Magoo we don't have all day. Hand over the uniform and get your J-Lo sized ass out of here."

Santana nods, biting down the urge to thank Coach and swiftly stands, making her way out Sue's office and down the hall. Brittany's there, now sitting on the floor with her knees bent and feet pressed to the ground, nervously chewing her nails as she stares at the opposite wall. Her denim shorts barely cover her ass and Santana tilts her head to the side as she gets closer, eyes lingering up the length of those smooth legs and sighs when the words 'she's yours' passes through her mind.

"Britt?"

The blonde's head whips around as she drops her hand from her face. "How was it? Did she yell? Are you okay?"

The questions come out like rapid fire and Santana chuckles as she takes a seat next to Brittany, leaning in a similar position but moving her hand to cover Brittany's trembling ones. It seems she's more scared than Santana is.

"She was fine," Santana reassures as Brittany flips her hand and pulls it further into her lap, tracing the lines of her palm. It calms her instantly, washing her body with an invisible coolness that pricks her skin. "A little incredulous because she's never known anyone to quit Cheerios before, but none the less, she was fine."

Brittany lets out a sigh and her voice is small when she says, "I was worried about you."

Santana's heart squeezes and chest blooms. It's pretty rare for someone to be worried about her. Sure, she has her parents, but that's not exactly the same thing as having someone who isn't obliged to due to blood. Having someone - no, scratch that - having _Brittany _be worried about her and care is so incredible it just kind of makes her head swim and swarm with adoration.

Right now, she just wants to kiss Brittany in lieu of a thank you. She just wants to just reach up and cup Brittany's cheek and kiss her. But this is school and _not_ the weekend anymore. They may be here a little earlier than most students, but there's still a few wandering around and Coach is still in the room behind them.

It's not a secret, their relationship or whatever the hell it is, but it's just so damn different and Santana's never done the whole 'one woman' thing before. People aren't going to ignore her when she walks down the hallway with Brittany next to her as well the gossip of how she screeched at Quinn in front of the entire part on Friday night. People won't be ignoring her romantic territory like they would with others. They'll already be staring at her and whispering little things to each other when her back is turned, so she doesn't need to feed them more by kissing Brittany in front of everyone. That will be just like adding petrol to a flame.

So, instead of closing the gap between them, she offers a smile and lifts her pinky. "Shall we go?" She says, hoping that Brittany gets her hesitations.

Brittany's eyes move to the offered pinky and then up to brown eyes. She presses her lips together and sucks them in a little, creating a strange sort of smile that says '_I get what you mean_' but at the same time '_everything's going to change, isn't it?_'

"Yeah," she breathes out, looping her pinky around Santana's. "Let's go."

Santana climbs to her feet, bringing Brittany with her and then they head down the hall, linked pinkies swinging between them.

* * *

It's quick. So quick that later on Santana will probably wonder if it was actually real. But it still happens and Santana's not entirely sure what to do with the two second moment that happens before her very eyes.

One moment she and Brittany are walking down the corridor, bags slung over their shoulders and hands clutching at the straps so they don't clutch at each other, and the next, Quinn appears with three snarling, smirking Cheerios, fresh out of Advanced Geometry and aims straight for Rachel Berry, who's only three or four steps ahead of them.

Santana's mouth drops open to object for what's to come - because no doubt with a pissed off Quinn, as well as an hour of fucking Geometry as her fuel, this isn't going to end well – but then she catches Brittany's expression in the corner of her eye and falters. There's no look of anger on Brittany's face, nor is there any sign of movement to stop what's going to come. She's just got her lips pinched up at the side and slightly narrowed eyes that just scream sympathy.

A classic 'Quinn Fabray' comment - about Rachel's height, nose and personality all in one - flows through the hallways, followed by a small yelp and the sound of books and something heavier slumping to the floor. Santana whips her head around, eyes locking onto Rachel's small body curled up next to the locker, hand clutching tousled hair and eyes glossy from unshed tears, and a rush of sympathy burns through her. And for the first time in like, ever, Santana's actually shocked by Quinn.

Sure, they would always give nerds a little shove, or knock their books to the floor when they passed them, but actually pushing Rachel so hard that she falls to the floor, slumped over and, by the looks of things, hits her head? That's just crossing the line.

It's stupid, because this is the way she treated Berry only a matter of days ago, but it sparks something inside of her. It conjures up a fire that sends burning hot anger throughout her entire body, and before she knows it, her body is propelling forward with all intention of yanking Quinn by the hair and asking what the fuck that was for.

But, somehow, Brittany sees it before the plan is put into action and grabs a hold of her forearm.

"Don't," Brittany whispers, so low that Santana almost can't hear it. "Just watch."

So Santana does just that. She bites back the urge to throw Quinn to the floor and returns her attention back to the retreating blonde cheerleader, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. It's then that she notices what Brittany's talking about and the fury burning inside of her turns into sheer confusion and wonderment. She almost can't really believe she's seeing what she is.

"What the..." she mumbles under her breath.

It's like a scene out a damn movie because everything slows down, and the smirk that's curling at Quinn's lips as she turns her head to peer over her shoulder falters. Her eyes, dark and narrowed in the way that they always are when she's being a total bitch, soften and turn into a light hazel that sparkles in the sunlight filtering through the hallway.

Santana moves her gaze to Rachel, who glances up through thick lashes and purses her lips, before looking away with sheer disappointment. The same disappointment that Brittany showed when Santana offered out her pinky instead of her hand.

Eyes widening in shock and horror, Santana drops her mouth open and twists to face Brittany.

"Holy shit!" She half-yells, earning several strange looks. It feels like someone just slapped her round the face with the 'obvious' fish because now her mind is reeling back to all of Quinn and Rachel's encounters; all of those looks and expressions.

"Fabray!" Her voice is high pitched and slightly squeaky. She can't really understand what the hell is going on. "Fabray is into BER-," a hand clamps over her mouth before she can finish her sentence, and wide blue eyes stare down at her as Brittany rapidly shakes her head from side to side.

"Don't say anything," the blonde says quickly, eyes flitting around to see if anyone's listening in. "Please. Don't."

And usually, this would be the moment where Santana freaks out because information like this is pure fucking gold. This is the type of secret that could save her reputation and destroy Quinn at the same time. This is the type of secret that she could use to send her and Brittany to the top of the pile once more where they could rock WMHS for the rest of their Senior year. This is the kind of informational fucking secret that makes that HBIC smirk tug at her lips because the power it gives her is like no other.

Head cheerleader, Quinn Fabray, crushing on a Glee kid that she's notoriously tortured for the last few years of high school? The same Quinn Fabray that only a few days ago, yelled and screamed at Santana for doing the exact same thing, crushing on a Glee kid?

This secret could tear Quinn Fabray down faster than you can say Rachel fucking Berry.

But then there's Brittany gazing at her with a pleading expression and soft blue eyes, and Santana realises something. She realises that whilst, yeah, that is the type of information that she could use to her advantage, that's also the type of secret that the old Santana would use; that the person she doesn't want to be anymore, would take straight to Coach Sue or the Cheerios and show Quinn.

Even remembering that that idea of crushing Quinn ran through her mind sends a wave of guilt crashing over her body because that's not her anymore. That was never her and that'll never be her.

So, instead, she sucks in her lips, darting her vision between Rachel who's gradually climbing to her feet, and Brittany who's staring at her with wide, blue, hope filled eyes that makes Santana's heart clench, and that just makes her decision.

"I won't," she says, pouring sincerity into her voice. "I won't say anything."

Brittany smiles in a way that plucks at the strings of Santana's heart and then she's staring at her lips like she wants nothing more than to kiss her. Santana doesn't even have a chance to look around to see if anyone's watching because Brittany's already opted out of kissing her and instead has wrapped her arms around her neck and pulled her into a deathly tight embrace that makes her eyes bulge and body spread with warmth.

"Thank you," Brittany whispers, like she knows the crushing-Quinn plan that ran through Santana's mind.

Santana doesn't respond, and instead hugs her closer by hands on the small of her back. They don't hold it for longer than necessary – despite knowing that she could just hold Brittany all damn day – and pull apart with sweet smiles and a promise to make up for that missed kissing opportunity later.

* * *

"So... why didn't you tell me about Quinn and Rachel?"

Brittany pauses her movement, fingers stilling on the ridge of Santana's eyebrow as she looks down to meet brown eyes. Currently, they're sitting in the middle of Santana's bed; Brittany on her lap with her long legs wrapped around her waist, ankles locked at the back and Santana has her legs crossed beneath the blonde, her arms looping around her waist like a loose belt.

It's around 6 in the evening, and it's only been about an hour since Santana actually got here - her mom wasn't too pleased with her after the weekend and is making her check in at _least _once a day - but she hasn't been too sure as to how she was to bring up the whole Rachel and Quinn encounter earlier in school. Clearly, it's something that's been going on for a while otherwise Brittany wouldn't have told her to watch as the event played out, and to be honest, that kind of bothers Santana more than she'd like to admit.

Why didn't Brittany have said anything earlier?

"What do you mean, 'why didn't I tell you?'" Brittany repeats, hands dropping to fidget with Santana's baggy sweatshirt whilst her face twists with confusion.

"I mean, like," Santana licks her lips and allows her eyes to roam over Brittany's shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"You don't even know what's going on."

"Because you didn't tell me."

"Santana," Brittany's voice drops into a warning tone and Santana almost rolls her eyes as the will to argue seeps straight out of her.

"I'm just saying," Santana starts again, rolling her shoulders in a half shrug as she unthreads her fingers and runs her hands up the back of the other girl's t-shirt. "I don't even know what's going on now and it's not like you're rushing to tell me," she explains, feeling a little pissed off and upset.

She doesn't know if the reason Brittany isn't telling her is the one she's thinking of - because she _was _a gossip but she's not anymore - and it's silly to think that Brittany _would _use that as a reason, considering she knows just how drastically Santana's changed over the past few weeks. But it's just that Santana's pretty damn insecure; insecure about revealing herself and being the person she actually is, and the old Santana _would_ probably go and tell people about whatever the hell is going on between Quinn and Rachel - because, really? That's some class A gossip right there - but she's _not _the old Santana. She _won't _be going and telling everyone, and she just thought Brittany knew that.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," she adds on as an afterthought, her voice drooping with sadness and head going with it "I'm not like that anymore."

"No, Santana-," Brittany's hands come up to cup her cheeks and she allows her head to be lifted slowly until she's staring into blue eyes. "That's not why I didn't tell you," the blonde explains. "I didn't tell you for a whole other reason."

Santana chews on her cheek for a moment, debating on what to reply. She wants to ask the reason, but if Brittany wanted her to know she would've said already. And Santana doesn't want to push her, no matter how much she's been wanting to know the gossip. That's a part of her she can't change, but she guesses that's just part of being a teenager.

But before she can even think of a response, Brittany begins to speak again.

"Honey, I didn't tell you because it's not my place to say anything."

Santana pulls her eyebrows together. "What?" She asks, slightly confused.

Brittany lifts her hand and affectionately brushes back a stray lock of dark hair from Santana's face, creating a small pause before her reply. "Feelings are never easy," she says through a sigh. "Especially not with two people who are convinced they don't want to be together. And Rachel and Quinn..." she trails off and Santana squints slightly, trying to understand.

(For some reason, Santana can't shake the feeling that there's a little more to this conversation than Quinn and Rachel.)

"Rachel and Quinn just don't know how to be. I mean-," Brittany circles her arms around Santana's neck, letting her hands dangle between her shoulder blades. "Quinn's been at Rachel's throat for God knows how long, judging by what Kurt's told me, and I just don't see Rachel reacting very well to know that all the bullying was because Quinn's into her."

"But surely that's better than bullying for the sake of bullying?"

Brittany lets out a chuckle. "No, San. Bullying is still bullying regardless of whether it's because of feelings or not."

Confusion shoots through Santana, crunching at her brain and making her face pull together unattractively. The blonde giggles and brings one arm back to smooth out the wrinkles on her forehead with the pads of her fingers and says, "You'll get wrinkles."

Releasing the tension from her forehead, Santana sighs out and pulls the other girl close, burying her face into the crook of Brittany's neck and inhaling deeply; closing her eyes at the way the honey and vanilla scent makes her head swim. Arms tighten around her neck and shoulders, pulling her close until it's hard to distinguish which body is which. Warmth pools inside of Santana and she can't help but smile into pale skin, loving the intimacy that comes with just a simple embrace.

"I don't know much more than you do," Brittany mutters after a long minute, breaking the silence. "Rachel's pretty quiet about it."

"How come?"

"The only person she's ever really been with is Finn, and not only was he a guy but their relationship was very public. Everyone always knew everything about them and look how that turned out."

"_Only _Lumps the Clown?"

Brittany pulls out of the hug, but only enough to tilt their foreheads together and squash their noses together, too. "Yes, Santana. Believe it or not but some people have only been with one person in their lives. We are only 18, you know," she winks, moving away to press a kiss to Santana's nose. "Not all of us are studs."

Santana grins cheekily as she moves her hands underneath the other girl's top, fingers flexing against smooth, pale skin. The blonde shudders, eyes fluttering shut and her chest presses up against Santana's when she breathes in and out deeply, and arousal strikes through Santana like a flash of lightening, leaving the bulging aftermath in between her legs.

"Stud, eh?" She repeats, voice deepening into a slight rasp.

Pink lips open to reply but Santana moves quickly, holding tightly onto the blondes slim body and jerking forward until Brittany squeals and giggles as she's flipped onto her back and Santana can settle between long legs.

"Santana!" Brittany manages to get out between chuckles as Santana begins to attack the long expanse of her neck with kisses and small licks.

But being Santana, she doesn't give in and laughs into pale skin as she grazes her teeth along the ridge of the other girl's collarbone. Her fingers work their way meticulously underneath Brittany's top and up over her ribs until she can palm the blonde girls breast through her bra. It only takes a few seconds before fingers curl into her hair and tug until their mouths can come together.

* * *

A little while late, they're still making out; just with a little less clothing.

Brittany's straddling Santana with her shirt off, and Santana's jeans are unbuttoned and down by her ankles. They both know that Fernando's somewhere upstairs, and Olivia is in the kitchen, and even though there's the whole '_no-entrance-without-a-knock_' thing, seven year olds aren't exactly known for keeping true to the rules, which means what they're doing is already way too risky.

But like, have you seen Brittany? That girl is _smokin'._ It's pretty damn difficult for Santana to keep her hands off her even if someone could walk in on them in any minute.

"Britt," Santana chuckles throatily when Brittany begins to nibble on her earlobe and her hand reaches between them. "Fernando's like-," the breath catches in her throat when a hand curls around her clothed member, which is throbbing with need, and begins to rub gently. "-Down the hall."

Brittany's laugh is low and raspy in her ear, and she shudders, hands sliding up the dip in Brittany's back and towards the clasp of her bra. "I can be quiet," the blonde whispers, tongue flicking out against her lobe.

"Babe," Santana starts, lifting her hands to cup at Brittany's cheeks at the same time a pale hand delves beneath the waistband of her boxers and grips at her fully. "We both know that's not true. You couldn't even go one round at the weekend without _screaming_ my name."

A soft giggle leaves Brittany's throat, but her cheeks redden and head ducks to press against Santana's shoulder. The grip around her cock begins to loosen, and she lets out a small grunt of disapproval when the hand retracts completely, Brittany's body sinking down onto hers fully and legs tangling with her own. Her hands come up to the blonde girl's shoulders and glide down her waist to pull them fully together, hands tingling with the feel of bare skin beneath them.

"And now you've blue balled me," she murmurs, but adds affection in her tone.

Brittany presses a kiss to her collarbone and snuggles into her. "Me too," she whines, lowly, probably with a pout. "But I like snuggling."

"Me too," Santana parrots. "Even if I never snuggle."

Brittany pulls up, resting on one elbow to stare down at her. "You never snuggle?" She asks, incredulously.

"Well, no. Before you I was more of a hump and dump," Santana admits, fingertips brushing over pale cheeks.

Guilt strikes her and her brows quiver in reaction; even though she's changed it still makes her feel awful to know that she treated girls like that. Before Brittany, she never really thought any different, and if she did her '_bitch side_' overshadowed it until she could gain another conquest and use that as a distraction.

It seems the sadness etching over her face is visible because a thumb and a forefinger grip at her chin and force her to look into blue eyes.

"Stop," the blonde orders. "You're not that person anymore. Stop thinking about it because you're not like that," Santana gulps against her thickened throat as Brittany finishes with, "You have me now."

The words couldn't be more true and the slight chilled guilt she felt from before is replaced with a knowing warmth that lights her up like a firefly in June. She feels her insides glow and a smile she just can't fight tug at her lips as she nods along like she's agreeing to Brittany's words. _Yeah, _she does have Brittany now. She isn't that person anymore, and Brittany's living proof of that.

"I have you," she whispers, stretching her neck up to dust her lips across the other girl's cheeks, light kisses pressing along the ledge and up to her temple.

Brittany just nods and uses the grip she has on Santana's chin to bring their lips together in a kiss that isn't heated or urgent, just simple and relaxed; a kiss that almost reflects what's going on between them.

Santana holds herself, feeling her heart pound and pulse thrum like a hummingbird against her skin, and just lets herself drown in the feeling of Brittany's soft, warm lips pressed against her own. Lets herself drown in the feeling of Brittany shifting, lips still pressed together, until a body drapes over her own and hands slide up her neck and tangle through the fine hairs at the base of her neck. She smiles against Brittany's mouth, their teeth bumping lightly when the blonde mirrors the gesture, and begins to kiss back, sucking lightly at Brittany's top lip and smoothing her tongue along the underside of it.

She's almost surprised at how loudly her heart is beating, at how fast the blood is rushing around her body, until her palms splay across Brittany's back and pull down, feeling the heat of the blondes body pushing down against her own and she notices that their heartbeats are in rhythm, pounding a familiar beat that makes her want to jump around in joy because she's feeling this.

(Maybe feelings aren't so bad after all.)

"You know," Brittany mumbles, lips parting momentarily before delving back into another kiss. "If you weren't so good," she shifts, keeping the kiss intact as she throws her legs over Santana's hips to straddle her once more. "At what you do," she smiles into the kiss as the conversation is mumbled out through kisses and lips.

"Then we wouldn't be having to just," she pauses with a long deep kiss, sucking at Santana's top lip until she parts her lips and allows Brittany's tongue to slip into her mouth, trace along the roof of her mouth and curl around her teeth. "_Kiss," _she pants out once they break for oxygen; it being a necessity for living and all.

(Santana wishes it wasn't.)

Santana hums, runs her hands over the back of Brittany's thighs and tugs gently to rock their hips together. She just can't help but do it. "You're not so bad yourself, you know," she retorts, a smirk crossing her face.

A final kiss, soft and all lips is pressed to her lips and then Brittany sits up, stretching her arms out like a crucifix and moving them in an arc until they're above her head. Santana's eyes widen, locking onto the swell of the other girl's breasts and how the muscles in her stomach ripple with the stretch and _dear God, _Brittany's so fucking hot!

"I've been told," the blonde says and winks down at her, her hands busying around and piling her blonde hair on top of her head.

Except Santana's not entirely focused on how distractingly beautiful Brittany fiddling with her hair is, because those three words shoot straight into her mind and cause her to still. It's not exactly like it's been bothering her for a while or anything, because it's only been a few days since they first had sex, and the news that Brittany wasn't a virgin was pretty shocking enough. It's just that the _way _Brittany said that she wasn't a virgin has been playing on Santana's mind. Snorting or scoffing would probably have been a good substitution for how she said it, because it was almost like a disbelieving _'really!' _towards Santana.

And it's common knowledge that two people who are... _intimate_, don't talk about how many people they've been with before, because that's just the white flag to their relationship. Once that question is asked, usually it's the beginning of the argument which either leads to a messy break up, many days of tortuous arguments or in some very rare cases, the best make up sex _ever. _And no matter how much Santana wants to know that question, or how much she'd wish that if she were to ask that question, the first two outcomes wouldn't happen, she can't really just ask it. Asking a guy is bad, but asking a girl? That's just terrible.

Then she thinks about her and Brittany. About how different they are in comparison to every other cou-, _no, _every other two people who are having sex, who kiss and cuddle and spend an inordinate amount of time together and about how nothing before has followed along the lines of the usual. And she thinks that maybe, if she did ask this question it wouldn't be _so _bad. Right?

"Britt?" Santana finally comes out with, her hands roaming up sweatpants cladded thighs and up to a toned stomach where she smooths her palms along the tight muscles there. "Can I ask you something?"

Brittany's head tilts to the side, her eyes narrowing slightly. Santana guesses it's because of the tone she used; the proper this-is-is-a-serious-conversation tone that she only ever uses when something is of the utmost importance.

"Yes," the blonde ducks down, forearms pressing into the mattress beside Santana's head. She nudges at a tanned cheek with her nose and whispers, "As long as you take that look off your face, you can."

Santana chuckles and reaches up to smooth her palms over each bump of Brittany's ribs. There's no real delicate way to phrase this question, and so she thinks considering the sheer honestly - mostly - that's been shared between them, saying it out straight and going for broke can't be terrible.

(She hopes.)

So she does just that. Asks it straight out. "How many people have you been with?"

Except, apparently, it_ can _be that bad.

Brittany's entire body stills above her, muscles tensing and breath stilling from where it's blanketing Santana's mouth. It takes a few seconds - the seconds that seem to on for like, _hours_ - but then the blonde shifts above her, and the glow inside her dims down as Brittany pulls back, eyebrows scrunched together and mouth in a small 'o' like she can't quite believe Santana asked that. Her pulse picks up for an entirely different reason than it did a minute ago and her throat runs dry as blue eyes search her brown ones intently, like they're trying to figure out something that clearly words can't ask.

Okay, maybe being a little more delicate would've been a better idea.

* * *

"Why are you asking?"

Santana's eyes widen a little, unsure of what to reply. Clearly this isn't going the way she wanted it to and it doesn't help that this is the first time she's ever had a conversation like this with someone. She doesn't know how it works, and maybe she should've put a little more thought behind it before asking _the _question. The question is the third worst that two people who are getting intimate can ask. Behind _'have you come yet?' _and _'are you PMS-ing?' _which are like instant deal breakers.

(She mentally notes to think before she speaks next time.)

"I don't know..." she replies, words dimming off. "I'm just curious."

Brittany's eyes harden into a steel blue as she snaps her spine straight. "Does it matter?" She almost hisses, arms crossing over her chest.

"Well, no, but I mean," Santana rolls her shoulders as much as she can in this position to try and relieve some of the hard tension building around them. "I was just wondering."

"Why?"

Guilt pours through her as she watches anger and regret - maybe? - flash across Brittany's features as she clambers off Santana and stands, before taking two long strides across the room and pressing her back to the far wall. Santana instantly feels cold and swings her legs over the edge of the bed, confused as to how they got from making out to this much distance within the space of a few minutes.

(She's not really confused. Guilty, though.)

"Britt, I mean I'll tell you my number," she slides one foot out of the foot hole of her jeans and kicks the other off, trying to concentrate on the right thing to say. She's never been good at doing that, though, and judging by Brittany's silence it's not like she's improving.

"It's quite a lot," she tries, hoping that might alleviate some of the tension. "But I will."

Brittany stays quiet for a long moment, but then at the same time Santana glances up and looks through her lashes at her, she speaks. "It's different with girls, Santana."

Santana tenses, fingers curling into the black silk sheet covering her bed. "I'm a girl," she says through a clenched jaw.

Not even a second later, Brittany's by her side, leg thrown over her lap and the other at the small of her back as her front presses into her side. Santana, for her part, just lets her shoulders deflate as a slight spark of anger fizzles out within her and rests her palms on top of Brittany's shins, fingers flexing against the skin. A kiss, small but meaningful, is pressed to her shoulder, and her eyes flutter shut at the feeling of warm lips sink through the fabric of her shirt.

"I know, San," Brittany murmurs, lowly. "You know what I mean though," Santana nods because _yeah, _she does know. The majority of her life she's known she's different. "It doesn't matter if you sleep with loads of girls," she sighs. "You'll be respected and like, fist bumped of whatever."

Santana bites back a chuckle. "Fist bumped?" She teases with an arched brow, feeling a lightness that wasn't there before creep back into the conversation. "You think I get fist bumped when I get laid?"

A slight chuckle comes from pink lips and Santana feels something squeeze in her chest as slender fingers pick up her hand and begin playing with it. Almost immediately her body feels a little more at ease, even if this conversation isn't exactly the easiest of conversations, but she still mirrors the small giggle.

"San," Brittany whines, almost like she's warning her, despite laughing herself.

Santana sucks in her lips and swallows the laughter. Right, serious mode. "Sorry, carry on."

Brittany breathes in deeply, then lets out an equally heavy sigh as her fingertips run up the length of tanned fingers and coming back down through the gaps. "It's just... If you sleep with a lot of people, no-one really cares. But if _I _sleep with a lot of people..." she pauses and her eyes flick up once to meet brown before glancing away once more. "I'm labelled a slut."

"I'm not proud of my number, Britt. I mean," Santana tries to make it better and searches for more words to do so as she flips Brittany's hand and begins playing with hers, instead. "Mine's quite a lot."

"How many?"

"What?"

Blue eyes meet brown. "How many people have you slept with?"

It's a sort of unnecessary question because Santana's known for sleeping with an inordinate amount of girls in the school. That's how she gained her reputation and exceeded to the top of the social pile. Brittany knows that. _Shit, _they even went through days of Brittany telling Santana how much she didn't want to be with her because of that - even if it was more directed towards Carmel's students instead of her - but still, Brittany knows.

Except, that's not what's really getting to Santana. Because, whilst, _yes_, Brittany _does_ know about the many girl's Santana's been with before, putting a number on it is actually a considerably bigger deal. Saying '_I've been with a lot of girls_' is like saying _'I've seen a lot of things_'; you don't need a number, because the words 'a lot' already implies that you've seen a lot of things. Brittany knows that she's been with a hell of a lot of girls before, and so she's never really elaborated on that. Which means that once a number is put on it, Brittany may think less of her. She knows she's been a shitty person, but putting a number on _how _many people she's been shitty to makes everything like, a million times worse.

Now she gets why asking this question is such a bad idea.

So, inhaling deeply, she clenches her jaw and counts back in her mind to the last time she, Quinn and Sugar tallied up her encounters.

"19," she breathes out, closing her eyes and hoping that a slap in the face doesn't follow her words.

Nothing comes, though. No instant gasp in reaction or shocked words. No sting of Brittany's palm swiping across her cheek or harsh words that would make Santana feel that gut aching pain because she knows how cruel and how awful she's been in the past.

No. Instead, comes a flat chuckle as the hands in her lap are taken away.

"Okay, now I'm _definitely _not telling you."

Santana snaps her head up, eyes bursting open. "What?" She says, shocked. "Why?"

Brittany's eyes roam to the ceiling like the answer is up there. It takes a few seconds but then she exhales a long breath and returns her vision to Santana. Santana's not sure if that's a good or a bad thing.

"Because you've slept with 19 people," the blonde girl says and for a split second Santana doesn't know if there's negativity behind that sentence or not. But then she looks at Brittany, like, _really _looks at her and sees how the phrase was said with a sadness and negativity that makes Brittany seemed ashamed of herself.

"Oh, come on," Santana reaches forward to reclaim the other girl's hands between hers, thumb rubbing in circular motions over the back of them in a soothing motion. "Britt-just look at me," she insists, squeezing at pale hands until blue eyes find her brown ones.

Words seem to lose their way from her brain to her mind and so the next thing she knows, she's _once again _not thinking before she speaks and watches how Brittany's features drop and how her eyes turn from soft to a hard, steel blue.

"I mean, it can't be_ that_ much more."

Completely the wrong thing to say, because Brittany pulls her hands again once more and buries her face into her palms, legs removing themselves from around Santana's body and curling into herself like a wood louse does when it's in danger. She moves away, into the center of the bed and pulls her knees to her chest, shoulders starting to move up and down as she begins to sob.

And it's not like Santana doesn't know what to do when some retracts like this, it's just that she's never been so _close _to someone who does. She's never been in this entire situation before - the whole her and Brittany thing - so it makes sense that she doesn't know how to deal with this when it includes the person she's so emotionally attached to.

"Shit, Brittany," Santana tries, frantically searching around the room with her eyes for help. There's nothing there though.

When that fails, she moves and molds herself around Brittany instead, taking her place beside the blonde and mimics Brittany's previous positions; legs either side of the blondes body and chest pressed against her side as her arms stretch around Brittany's body. A surge of guilt pours through her and suddenly she wishes that she had a damn time machine to take back ever asking this fucking question. It was never her fucking intention to make Brittany cry or to even upset her. She was just curious and now she's not entirely sure what to do or say. She's already screwed it up enough and words can only make it worse.

(Curiosity really did kill the cat.)

"Please, Santana," Brittany shrugs and wiggles her shoulders as if she's trying to get Santana off her. "Don't."

"Britt-Britt, come on. I'm sorry," she tries. "I didn't mean to push you for an answer..." her voice dies off and she clenches her jaw, nose flaring slightly. She feels really fucking bad now. "I just... I don't know..."

Brittany sniffles, rubs her knuckles under her nose and glances up almost shyly. "No, it's not your fault," she gets out, sucking in three consecutive shaky breaths. "I'm just... I'm just not exactly prou-proud of it."

Santana hugs her tighter and feels her curl into her body, head tucking beneath her chin and it's instinctive for her hands to begin to combing through golden locks gently as she soothes the blonde. Kisses, soft and reverent are dropped to Brittany's head and Santana begins to rock them - she's seen it in movies and when she was a kid and her mom tried to comfort her it always worked - back and forth.

She thinks about Brittany's words over and over; thinks about how ashamed Brittany seems and how upset she is at the thought of her past, and Santana knows that feeling better than most. She knows what it's like to feel ashamed and guilty for what she's done, and her stomach clenches at the thought that Brittany might be feeling the same.

A smile threatens to tug at her lips when she realizes exactly what she needs to say.

"Brittany," she starts, pulling back slightly and wincing at how Brittany sucks in her lips and whimpers at the loss of contact. To make up for it, she cups pale cheeks and brushes her lips over them, kissing away the streak of tears there and as she moves to the ridge of Brittany's jaw, she feels the skin tighten and realizes Brittany's smiling a little. Her heart flutters as she thinks that she can make Brittany feel better. She's never been able to do that for anyone before.

"Listen to me," she begins again, backing away to look between sparkling sapphire eyes and sifting her fingers through Brittany's hair. "I don't care about your past and who you've been with. I won't think any less of you if you tell me, because-" she licks her lips to pause and breathes in deeply. "-Because nothing could _ever _make me think less of you. _Nothing_. You mean too much to me to ever ruin how I feel about you." Brittany cracks a small smile and sniffles a little.

"If you really don't wanna tell me then it doesn't matter, I will still want you even if I'm left with no answer. Whether you've slept with one person or a hundred, I don't care," she lifts her shoulders in a shrug to emphasize her words. "Because there's nothing wrong with sleeping with people, and everyone does-_well_, except from the Miss Pillsbury," she says, lightening the atmosphere and grinning when Brittany laughs through her drying tears. "But whatever your answer is, and whether you tell me or not, it can't and _won't _change my mind about you, because nothing ever will._ Ever_."

Brittany does this little thing where she pinches her lips up at the side and lifts one hand, wiping away the lingering tears at the corner of her eyes before shuffling and tilting their foreheads together, and Santana kind of dies because of it. Everything the blonde does just seems to be adorable and beautiful at the same time, and it just makes Santana fall harder and harder every single second of the day. Her heart flutters and flips, and she closes her eyes and smiles softly as the memory plays over and over in her mind. She doesn't think she'll ever get enough of Brittany.

"25."

It takes a few seconds for Santana to process the number and link it to her previous question, but when she does, she just opens her eyes and doesn't react. Nothing changes inside of her because she meant what she said. She just doesn't care that Brittany's slept with 25 people because Brittany's still the beautiful, wonderful Brittany that she was a minute ago. And even though Brittany's staring at her with this expression that says '_please don't hate me_', Santana can't even find it within her to even _think _about hating Brittany. She doesn't think she ever could.

So, she just shrugs and bumps their noses together until blue eyes bore into her brown ones and they're breathing in a cycle, Brittany out and Santana in.

"I don't care," she whispers and watches relief flash behind crystal blue orbs as Brittany's body sinks into hers a little more. "I still want you."

"I just..." Brittany squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head a little. "I just don't want you to think bad of me," she mutters, lowly. "I don't-don't think I could handle that."

"You'll never have to."

Brittany's eyes flutter shut as Santana moves close enough to kiss, and Santana feels Brittany's warm breath cover her lips and how it makes her head feel heavy and heart race. She swallows lightly, inhaling deeply as their lips linger with barely a centimeter between them, and can't quite believe that she went from feeling nothing to everything in a matter of weeks. She never realized how lonely she was until she met Brittany and now she never wants to be without her.

And for once, she doesn't feel fear pulse through her at the idea that she wouldn't be able to work right without Brittany. For once, she actually embraces it wholeheartedly and smiles as she cranes her neck to brush her lips over the other girl's softly.

Something is whispered against her lips as she drifts back a little, but then Brittany moves forward to kiss her again, lips covering her bottom one and sucking gently like she's trying to convey everything she feels into this one kiss. Fingers, long and slender, slide up her bicep, over her shoulder and curl around the nape of her neck as she tilts her head and presses her mouth ever closer, tasting the sweetness of Brittany's breath on her tongue and the effects seep into her mind like a potent drug.

She doesn't know what those words whispered into her mouth were, but she sure as hell thinks her heart's starting to find out.

* * *

They kiss and kiss and kiss, until the night begins to dawn on them and fatigue scratches at the back of their eyes.

Santana breaks the kiss when Brittany's tongue becomes a little sloppy, and brushes blonde hair behind the other girl's ear before they crawl up the bed together and slide underneath the sheets fully clothed. Brittany moves closer instantly, curling and molding into Santana like their bodies were made to fit together and something squeezes in Santana's chest at the thought that maybe they were. She whispers goodnight into her hair, and hears the low mumble of Brittany saying it back as a light kiss is pressed to the sight of her neck, right over her thrumming pulse point.

And it only takes about three minutes or so before Brittany's breathing evens out and Santana feels the arm across her stomach become a little heavier. She tilts her neck down to glance at the blonde girl and smiles, small and meaningful before dusting a soft kiss at Brittany's hairline and settling down and closing her eyes.

* * *

It's Thursday. Which means Glee practice for Brittany and Spanish for Santana without her. That also means Santana alone with Quinn at the front next to Rachel - who's situation is still both shocking and fascinating to Santana - and then another quarter of an hour of lunch alone.

This will be fun, fun, fun.

Mr Martinez smiles at her when she enters, clutching the strap of her bag and she pulls her lips up at the side in a polite '_I'm-smiling-but-not-really' _kind of smile as she heads towards her seat. Instantly, as soon as she sits down, her entire left side feels a little colder than usual, and it dawns on her that Thursdays from now on are just going to _suck. _Shit happens, though, and it's not like she doesn't get to see Brittany after school and drive her to and from school whilst her car gets repaired, as well as go over her house to babysit Madison whilst Susan's at work.

Maybe two hours without Brittany is healthy. It gives her a little time alone, even if she doesn't want it.

Still, it doesn't mean that she doesn't wish Brittany was here.

* * *

This lesson is probably the longest lesson to have ever existed in the history of the entire world.

When it gets to the half hour mark, Santana's absently tapping her pen on her notebook with her left hand, resting her chin in her right and watching a squirrel chase another one up the tree outside the window. It's not interesting, but it's like, ten times more interesting than listening to Mr Martinez trying to explain the difference between the 'to be' verbs to the ginger stoner that sits in the far corner.

(Santana's pretty sure he's screwing with Mr Martinez, but the teacher doesn't know.)

And when it gets to the fifty five minute mark, Santana's about three seconds away from falling face first onto the desk and passing out. It's not like she has a lack of sleep - even though Brittany does seem to be keeping her up and not even for sex the majority of the time. It's just because she's so damn beautiful and Santana can't help but stare at her when she's sleeping, even if that is a little creepy - it's just that she's so damn bored and she doesn't quite know how she ever got through the past few years of Spanish before Brittany came along.

As soon as the bell goes - Santana actually watches the second hand hit 12 - she's piling her stuff into her backpack and lugging it over her shoulder even before Motor Mouth Berry's stopped talking. Then again, that's not really _that _quick; Berry _never_ stops talking.

All the students bumble out in one large crowd, and Santana hangs back a little because even though they'd still move aside if she waltzed through the middle, today's just one of those days where she wants to stay out the spotlight. No particular reason. Just one of those days.

When she gets out, she heads towards her locker and punches in the combo before opening it. She has a free period now, and Brittany's not here to spend it with, and there's not really any point in heading home, so she just figures she'll grab a book and sit on the field for a bit or go sit in her car.

Well, that's the plan before Sugar leans on the locker beside hers and smiles sweetly.

"Hey," the cheerleader says, voice light and eyes bright.

Santana squints a little, unsure of this greeting. Why is Sugar talking to her now? It's Thursday and they've both been in school since Monday.

"Hello," she replies, eyes flitting from the contents of her locker to the girl. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I just... haven't talked to you in a while."

A bitter chuckle escapes her. "Yeah, well, I'm sure Quinn's been a part of that."

"No," Sugar defends immediately, pushing off the locker and clasping her hands in front of her. "I just didn't think you'd want to speak to me after Friday..."

Santana almost rolls her eyes. "No," she breathes out. "That wasn't your fault. And I did-do, want to talk to you."

The smile on Sugar's face is almost blindingly bright and so genuine Santana finds herself doubting it. Santana's always got the feeling that Sugar prefers her to Quinn, for some unknown reason, and she kind of likes that, especially considering she was always the bigger bitch.

"Awesome," the cheerleader replies as Santana shuts her locker. "Do you have a free now?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna hang out?"

Eyes flickering around the hallway to make sure no Cherry Slushies are heading her way, Santana pinches her lips together and nods. Friday didn't really have anything to do with Sugar, even if she was there, so it's not like Santana has good reason to be pissed at the girl. In all honesty, anyway, she isn't really _that_ pissed. just a little disheartened that Sugar would choose Quinn over her, even if she does get the whole 'Cheerios sticking together' thing, so she understands why Sugar did what she did.

Not to mention Sugar's a sheep and Quinn and Santana are both shepherds, and it just happened that on Friday, Quinn's sheep-herding skills were a little better than Santana's. Sometimes things just work like that.

"Yeah, sure, Sugar. I was just about to head over to the field."

"Cool. Can I join you?" Sugar asks, eyes shining with hope and excitement.

Santana pulls her lips up at the side and smiles. Sugar's just one of those people that you can't be angry at. She's just so damn nice and quirky, which is kind of refreshing considering the majority of students that walk around within these walls. Bar Brittany, obviously. But Brittany's just always a breath of fresh air; always different, and in the good way, too.

"Yeah. That'd be nice," she says through her smile and watches out the corner of her eye as Sugar bites back the urge to bounce up in joy.

Sugar grins widely and then they both head down the hallway and outside.

* * *

It's a little strange at first, verging on the edge of awkward, but that's only because they've never really hung out like this; without Quinn and with the whole Brittany thing going on around them. That's not exactly surprising though, it'd be weird if it wasn't awkward.

But it does get better, and turns out that without Quinn they actually seem to get a long a little better. Although Santana puts that down to the fact that when Quinn was around, they barely even shared a glance let alone a conversation. Despite it being three of them, the majority of the time it was more like _QuinnandSantana _with Sugar to the side, instead of _QuinnSugarandSantana, _which, now, Santana wishes it could've been. It would have made the last few years a little more bearable.

The period whooshes by, and before either of them know it, it's only a few minutes away from the lunch bell and a few minutes until all the students begin to file out their classes. The upside of that is it means only a half hour 'til Brittany, the downside? No Sugar as Quinn will no doubt snatch her away, so thirty minutes of being alone and bored.

_Yay._

"So, um," Sugar fiddles with the blades of grass between her fingers from where she's sitting, crossed legged and by Santana's hip, who's laying down on the grass, facing the sky. "How are you and Britt?"

It was only a matter of time 'til this question came about, and to be honest, Santana's quite surprised it took fifty five minutes for it to be asked; Sugar's usually straight to the point.

"Yeah," she nods, biting back the smile and pushing down the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "We're good."

"Good..."

Sugar nods with her words and Santana can just tell the girl wants more, but she knows if she starts talking about how amazing she and Brittany are, she won't ever stop. And they only have like, five minutes until lunch and that's not nearly enough time to explain how she feels. It's been building up for days now, and it's almost been killing her not being able to tell anyone - even though she can, she just doesn't have anyone_ to_ tell - but now Sugar's here, all she wants is to shake the girl, blurt out everything, squeal, rejoice over her and Brittany's time together and maybe even do a little dance because she's just _that_ damn happy.

She just wants to talk about Brittany all the damn time but she can't. There's a line between being happy and being a stalker and if she gives into what she wants, there might as well be a neon sign hanging above her head that says, _'Brittany's stalker.'_

Fine, _slight _exaggeration, but Santana's not used to wanting something all the time; wanting to hold Brittany, to hug her, to kiss her and tell her she's beautiful, as well as talk about her all the time. This burning want for Brittany inside of her isn't something she's familiar with, and so it's going to take some time to get used to it.

Which means she's going to have to wait for Sugar to ask her anything before she can release her tongue.

"Oh screw it," Sugar says, and leans closer with wide, excited eyes. Santana realizes the girl was trying to keep her cool, too. "Tell me all about you and Brittany."

A buzz shoots through her, and Santana props herself up on her elbow with a subtle smile creeping upon her lips. The burning urge to talk about Brittany just like, ten-folded inside of her, but she's nothing if not a good actress. _Hell, _she's been practicing and succeeding for the past four years or so, so a few minutes is nothing. Playing it cool has been one of her specialties and so she's gonna do just that.

Well, that's the plan, anyway. That's also before her mouth opens and so many things begin to pour out she's almost surprised she can talk that damn fast. But then there's Sugar nodding along, her smile growing wider as Santana talks about their magical weekend together - leaving the hot, steamy but passionate sex out - and how most nights, if both their moms allow, Santana gets to fall asleep with Brittany snoring lightly into the crook of her neck and wake up with warm lips kissing her back into consciousness.

Basically, she just tells Sugar how insanely awesome her life is at the moment.

But, then the bell goes, and she's shocked that she managed to get the majority of their time together to fit into those few minutes. She's glad she did though, because now Sugar's beaming at her and clapping excitedly and _ohmyGod _Santana just wants to keep talking.

"So you've fallen hard, huh?"

Santana's eyes grow comically wide. "What?"

"You've fallen for her," Sugar continues in a '_duh' _tone. "Big time, by the sounds of it."

Santana can hear the excitement in the other girl's tone, and can hear the tell tale signs of students leaving their classes and making their way to lunch, but that's pretty much it. She knows she's still alive, only because her eyes are open, but her mind's gone blank and all human function seems to have disappeared from her body, including her heart which seems to be skipping like, a million beats because of what Sugar just said.

It's not like she's in denial that she's falling for Brittany, because she is. She accepted that a while ago. But there's a difference between fall-_ing _and fall-_en._That being one is in the process, and the other has already occurred. Which is ridiculous, because Santana hasn't fallen in love with Brittany. There's a slight, tiny, _teeny _chance that she _might _possibly have strong feelings for the blonde girl, but that sure as hell doesn't mean that she's fallen in love with her. They've only known each other for a few weeks, and they're not in a freaking movie or fairy tale here. Shit like that doesn't happen; especially not in Lima, Ohio and especially not to Santana Lopez.

"I haven't-"

"I've gotta go," Sugar whips her head around and for the first time Santana notices the girl wasn't looking at her, but over towards the school, instead. "I'll talk to you later, Santana, and congratulations on you and Britt. I'm so happy for you," the girl beams with a genuine smile and then walks off.

Santana, left incredibly confused, blinks a few times and tries to process what the hell is going on. But before she can even mutter to herself under her breath, a shadow covers her and a voice follows only a second later.

"What's wrong with her?"

Her entire body tenses and she clenches her jaw as anger sparks through her. "I don't know," she replies flatly, ignoring the urge to copy Sugar and just walk away. "She just ran off."

The shadow moves and Quinn plops down beside her and chucks her Cheerios folder in front of her kicked out legs. Santana bites back the '_what the fuck are you doing?' _and clenches her fists around the blades of grass, simultaneously ripping a few of them out.

"Oh, right," Quinn replies and Santana just stares ahead, watching a few students come onto the field.

Silence sets in and it makes anger bubble inside of her to know that Quinn's just sitting here like nothing happened. Like the past few weeks were just inside of Santana's imagination and that Quinn didn't try and break her and Brittany up with a stupid rumor to that Jewish kid, which _yes _was true, but still _nothing _to do with her. _Shit, _Quinn's just fucking sitting there like she didn't treat Brittany like crap and talk about her like she was nothing. Fucking Quinn.

It gets to Santana so much to think about all the things Quinn did to her and Brittany, that she feels the cool dirt crumble in her fist as she digs her hand further into the grass, holding back the irrational urge to go all Jackie Chan on Quinn's ass. But then she thinks of Brittany, and how if she were here, she'd tell her how _not _worth kicking Quinn's ass is; how it would possibly put her own ass on the line as well as her last year here at McKinley. She thinks about how Brittany would dip her head slightly, squint her blue, _blue _eyes and silently plea with Santana not to take this situation any further because the damage has already been done.

And her fist unclenches.

"What do you wa-"

"How are you and Brittany?"

The question catches Santana completely off guard, and she whips her head around and glares at Quinn. "What?"

"I said, how are you and Brittany?" Quinn repeats, but the strength in her voice wavers a little like she's unsure of asking this question.

Santana gets that, because even she's unsure of why Quinn's asking this question. The last time they even spoke was at the party last Friday and _fuck, _even then Quinn didn't use Brittany's name. _Choir geek _or _freak _was used in her place and the memory makes Santana's veins burn with the remnants of the anger she felt a few minutes ago. Desperately trying to hold on to the image of Brittany pulling at her wrist and telling her that hitting Quinn isn't worth it - even though, _yeah, _it really fucking would be - she turns her head and faces the front again, returning her eyes to the students on the far side of the field.

"Why are you asking?" She grits out, nostrils flaring.

Quinn shrugs sheepishly. "I don't know..." she drawls out. "I just wanted to know how you and Britt are. That's all."

"What, so now she has a fucking name?" Santana spits out, because she's been holding back for longer than she thought was possible, and one swear word in a sentence addressed to Quinn is more than fair. She could've added _at least _another ten in there to show her feelings towards the blonde cheerleader.

"Don't be like that," Quinn says through a sigh and Santana's eyes narrow in reaction. Why is Quinn being like this? All soft and shit. It's making her feel uneasy.

"Look..." Quinn takes in a deep breath and then slowly twists her head, but not enough to meet Santana's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Santana chokes on the breath she's holding and her eyes bulge out. "What?" She asks, her voice sharp and harsh. Confusion and shock races through her and her brows scrunch together in the middle of her forehead as her expression turns incredulous. "Did you just- I mean, did-did Quinn Fabray just _apologize?" _

Quinn looks at her with that _don't make me say it again _expression and something lightens in Santana's chest. Never in their entire friendship has she ever heard Quinn freaking _apologize _to anyone for something she did, and Santana knows that the first time was rare so a second would be like Jesus' second coming. As a small smile creeps across her lips, she realizes there's a subtle change to Quinn's eyes.

It makes something soften inside of her chest and she no longer has the urge to punch Quinn. Because that change? That's the one Santana noticed in herself when she looked in the mirror the night she kissed Brittany; the night she felt _the change _inside of her chest that made her want to be a better person, that made her want to ditch the Cheerios uniform, and the bitch facade that she'd spent years perfecting.

Guess Quinn's found her change now.

"Shut up," the blonde mumbles. "Don't think I'm making a habit of it."

Santana rolls her eyes as the bitchy tone comes back into the other girl's voice. "No need to be passive aggressive, Fabray. Just cos you've gone all soft on me."

"I haven't gone soft," Quinn snipes back, lifting her head.

But Santana just quirks a brow and smirks, and Quinn looks away, head shaking but a smile threatening at her lips that says '_yeah, I have'_. There's no way in hell Quinn could even deny going soft, though. She just freaking _apologized. _Still, Santana knows how she and Quinn work, and due to their whole not-talking-about-feelings thing they've got going, or _did_ have going, there's no easy way of going about this. If she's going to get results from this conversation she's gonna have to go all old school.

Which means welcome back, bitchy Lopez.

"You gonna keep being a bitch or you gonna spill?"

Quinn wets her lips, considering the question. "I haven't done anything you haven't," she retorts, and Santana just stares, confused for like, the third time since the blonde girl came over here.

"What does that mean?"

Quinn doesn't answer and instead slowly turns her head around to face the field once more. Santana almost snaps at her for an answer, because she's impatient and the blonde always has a way of getting under her skin and knowing just how to annoy her, but then she follows the other girl's sight and finds that she _is _answering, just not with words.

Over the other side of the field, by the entrance, Brittany and Rachel are standing there, clutching their bags and giggling together. Santana breathes out and has an overwhelming urge to grin at the way Quinn's hazel eyes are sparkling that little more. because she knows her eyes do the exact same thing when she looks at Brittany. It's a feeling she knows only too well and even though, yeah, Quinn's been a total bitch, she gets how difficult it is to feel something different for once.

"So," she starts, leaning back on her arms as she braces her palms behind her. "Berry, huh?"

Quinn flinches, but Santana continues.

"You like her, don't you?"

Quinn doesn't answer right away, just turns her head to the ground and mimics Santana's position, arms braced behind her and legs kicked out in front. A range of different emotions flash across her face; fear, happiness, shock. But the one that Santana sees lingering the most is the adoration, and it makes something bloom in her chest.

She almost can't believe at the start of this conversation, she wanted to rip Quinn's head off.

"It's..." Quinn trails off and brings one hand forward to play with the grass; a habit Santana knows to be Quinn showing her fear. "It's complicated."

The conversation turns deep then, and despite both of them being different people to the ones that started at the beginning of this year, Santana still doesn't feel at ease with it. There are way too many new experiences happening to her this school year, and they're only continuing to come, despite previous thought that the ones she's had could last her for years and years.

"Just tell her," Santana finally says, forgetting all about her bitchy side, and knowing somewhere, behind that Cheerios uniform and high pony, there's a vulnerable Quinn, just looking for someone to love her. Looking for Berry to love her. Santana would know. She may not be like, an expert or anything, but she certainly knows how this feels - but obviously not with the hobbit - so screw it. She can give Quinn advice and help her as much as she can. "You'll regret it if you don't."

She doesn't know that for sure, and there's a little part of her that falters like a wilting flower because she hasn't quite told Brittany how she feels, but that's not the point right now. Now, is about Quinn and Rachel and she can't think about her and Brittany because that'll make her think and she just doesn't like doing that. Thinking always ruins things. Thinking always leads to over-thinking and complications and that's something Santana doesn't want between her and Brittany, even if she knows at some point, she and Brittany are going to have to talk about it.

Quinn lifts her head again, eyes slightly narrowed and brows pulled together like she's doing some serious thinking. "Yeah... I think I will," she says, almost as if she's talking to herself. "It'll be good for me."

Santana nods along, knowing full well it _would _be good for Quinn, because it worked wonders for her. "It will. Trust me."

It's unexpected, and Santana actually jumps a little from shock, but Quinn lets out a laugh that resembles a snort and looks away, smiling for some unknown reason. "Look at us," she chuckles. "All sappy."

Santana begins to laugh too. The girl has a point. "Shut up, Fabray," she tries, shifting her weight onto one arm so she can reach up with the other and jab the cheerleader in the arm, playfully. "You're still a bitch."

"You too, Lopez," Quinn replies, winking. "You'll always be one to me."

Santana rolls her eyes, and her eyes drift towards over to the other side of the field where she finds Brittany and Rachel walking towards them both, still chatting and chuckling. Her heart skips a beat when Brittany laughs and then flits her eyes towards her, the grin on her face growing wider as their eyes meet. It's almost silly how much she's missed Brittany considering they've only been apart for an hour and a half tops, but she's long past caring because now the blonde's coming towards her, undoubtedly coming to sit in her lap, brush back the hair fallen across her face and greet her with the kiss she's been wanting since their one in the car this morning.

"Looks like you and Britt are nice and cosy," Quinn says, breaking her from her thoughts.

Santana smiles. _Yeah, _they are nice and cosy. "We're good," she says, trying to play the cool card.

It works, because Quinn doesn't press the issue any further and Santana's content with the silence between them as they both watch Brittany and Rachel walk towards them. Well, she thinks it works, until Quinn brings her legs up and tucks them beneath her and fully turns her attention to Santana with a look that says _'this means business'._

Santana wishes Rachel and Brittany were here already.

"Don't get pissed for me asking this," the blonde starts, and Santana can already tell by that single sentence that _yeah, _she's probably going to get pissed by what's to come. "But have you two..." she ducks her head and leaves the rest up for interpretation.

And then Santana hesitates. Of all the things she was expecting Quinn to ask, some including whether or not she and Brittany are official yet, or whether Quinn should ask Rachel out instead of just telling her about her feelings, this _definitely_ wasn't one of them. Which, actually, is pretty stupid because she should've known better. She should've known Quinn better and expected that stupid fucking bet that started off her and Brittany to come up.

Then, she realizes she doesn't know what to say. Quinn's here, asking this question, and at no point in the past few weeks since the bet was made, has Santana even thought about how the bet was going to end. The old Santana would tell the truth, and gladly take the $300 that Quinn would put into her palm with the same glum expression she always has whenever Santana wins a bet, but she's _not _the old Santana anymore. And now she just doesn't know what _this _Santana - the new and improved one - will do.

Except as Brittany catches her eye again, she almost laughs at herself for even doubting her answer.

"Nope," she lies, pouring every ounce of fake honesty she can into her voice. "We haven't."

Quinn smiles at her, believing the lie and nods like she's proud. "Was it worth losing?"

Santana's eyes flit towards Brittany, and her heart squeezes as a idiotic smile tugs at her lips when blue eyes glance towards her. She remembers the conversation about Brittany being able to feel whenever Santana was looking at her and sighs a little. She's fucking crazy about Brittany and day by day, the warmth to the left of her chest seems to increase, all thanks for that gorgeous blue eyed blonde.

She lifts her hips off the ground, and stretches her legs as she reaches into her jeans pocket and pulls out the cash she has there, which is only about $100 as she realizes when she counts it. She needs to go to an ATM.

"Quinn," she starts, holding out the dollar bills and staring the blonde girl in the eye. "It was worth every fucking penny."

The grin that spreads across Quinn's face is actually infectious, and Santana mirrors it as she shoves the money further towards the blonde to emphasize her words.

"Well now you have someone to go to Senior prom with," Quinn says, but then curls Santana's fist by wrapping her hands around it as she pushes her hands back. "And I think you got more out of it, so you keep the money." Santana can't help but keep stealing glances towards Brittany as she nears with Rachel, and she's pretty sure her face is about to break from the insanely large smile etched across her face because _yeah, _she definitely got more out of it than winning a bet.

"God, you two are like nauseatingly cute."

Santana chuckles. "Shut up," she says through a slight blush. Sort of stupid how much of a sap she is now. "And you could be too, you know," she continues, jutting her chin towards Berry. "If you just tell Rachel."

"Yeah," Quinn nods, face contorting into a serious expression but with a smile tugging at her lips. "I think I will," she says and then her eyes sparkle ten times brighter than they were before as two shadows begin to invade the grassy space a meter in front of them.

But the fluttering feeling inside of Santana's chest disappears and is replaced with confusion and befuddlement as Quinn leans close to her and whispers, "so when are you gonna make it official?" low enough that Brittany and Rachel can't hear, because she knows the answer to that question. She knows they're not official and doesn't know when she'll properly ask Brittany because despite giving it all the talk about knowing how happy she can be, there's still that discomfort within her that knows she can't take her own damn advice and seize the happiness waiting for her. There's still a part of her that's scared to call Brittany her own, even though every inch of her craves that, and knows that Brittany won't wait around forever for it.

She's broken from her thoughts when Brittany sets her bag down next to her, and immediately she spreads her arms wide, prompting the blonde girl to sit down in her lap instead of the grass whilst her thoughts are still racing in her mind. Of course, Brittany obliges and lowers herself until she's sitting side-saddle across Santana's lap and tanned arms are looped loosely around her waist.

"Hey," Brittany whispers, tenderly brushing back a dark lock of hair and tucking it behind Santana's ear.

Santana smiles, but feels her lip quiver at the side. "Hey, beautiful," she replies, craning her neck and pouting for a kiss to distract the blonde from the way her smile faltered.

Brittany giggles, obviously the distraction worked, and scrunches her nose, before leaning down and tilting Santana's chin up a little more to press their lips together softly and quickly, then sits back and begins to toy with the ends of Santana's hair.

Quinn's still staring at her, though, expecting an answer that she just can't give and she's just holds onto the hope that Brittany won't ask her the same thing.


	19. Part Nineteen

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Nineteen]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** 16.6k  
Author's Note: _So _sorry for the wait on this guys! I had a lot of stuff going on and so did my beta. But I hope this chapter makes up for it! Huge thank you to my beta and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

The week's going by quickly, and it's sort of unnerving how little people care about Santana's drastic change from head bitch to a puppy eyed dope that can't seem to stop staring at Brittany during Spanish. Although, it is a relief because she was completely prepared for the worst: physical bullying, slushies and all that jazz.

But now she doesn't even know why she even thought that. Just because she quit Cheerios and is suddenly holding hands with a 'choir geek', doesn't mean her mean streak and ability to tear down a person with a single glare isn't still inside of her. That's something that no amount of time can take away and she's glad; people still respect her, maybe even more now she's dropped from her ascension to power, and therefore don't give her any shit.

So now it's the last period of the day: Spanish.

And Santana's spent the good part of forty five minutes decidedly _not _staring at Brittany. Mr Martinez has caught her sixteen times since Tuesday and a few detention threats have been thrown around. She doesn't really feel like sitting in a hot room on an early Thursday evening. She'd rather spend it with Brittany.

They're finishing off their assignment - the one that brought them together in the first place - and Santana's scribbling down the last half of the essay whilst Brittany organizes their folder; a result of a bet the blonde girl won after Santana lost _badly _at a game of '_Too Hot_' - which includes a shirtless Brittany straddling an equally shirtless Santana on the edge of her bed, with Santana holding her hands behind her back and trying to keep them there as Brittany kisses her and coaxes her into losing the game by giving into the burning urge to reach out and just touch the blonde.

Santana lasted about twenty three seconds before it all got too much, and she picked Brittany up, strong thighs instantly wrapping around her midsection as she pressed the blonde girl up against the nearest wall, her teeth instantly grazing over Brittany's collarbone and pulse point.

_(Totally _worth the following hour, though.)

A wad of paper lands square in the middle of Santana's worksheet, next to the nib of her pen and she's about to snap her head up and let loose at the douche bag who did it when she sees Kurt smiling weakly at her. Narrowing her eyes, she places down her pen and picks the paper up, but then she hears the high pitched hiss that says '_No, it's for Brittany' _and rolls her eyes.

Why did she even think it was for her?

Keeping a tab on Mr Martinez, whose feet are propped up on the desk whilst he bops his head to some imaginary beat, Santana nudges Brittany with her elbow and waits until blue eyes lock onto her profile. She smiles when they do - because that's just what happens whenever Brittany looks at her - and doesn't tear her vision away from the front of the room as she passes the wad of paper over. She feels the slight confusion radiate off the blonde and spares a quick glance, mouthing _'it's from Kurt' _before scrunching her nose up adorably and turning back to her work.

Brittany's giggle sends a shudder reverberating down her spine.

It's barely a few seconds later that Brittany shuffles closer to her and dips her head, keeping it low as well as her voice.

"The Glee kids are having a party tomorrow night," she whispers, peeling open the paper and flashing Santana the note.

It's a small scribble, but the writing is cursive and loopy and Santana bites back the urge to laugh because Kurt's writing is gayer than he is, which is pretty damn amusing. She glances up, silently saying '_yeah?' _with her eyes because Mr Martinez has freakishly good hearing and he's probably already heard Brittany speak seeing as the classroom is _dead_ silent.

"You don't mind if I go," Brittany starts again, wetting her lips. "Do you?"

Santana pulls her brows together, trying to ignore the slight tug in her chest that's from the lack of invitation from her side, but she gets it. For the past few years she's done nothing but torture the Glee kids, so why would they suddenly sprout up and invite her to one of their parties? Just because she's dating Brittany? Or, seeing Brittany, or y'know, just spending time with Brittany or whatever she's doing. That's no reason for an invite to one of their parties.

(In the back of her mind she thinks about 'the talk' that's most likely going to be coming soon, and a jolt of fear shoots through her.)

"No," she says, a little louder than expected.

Mr Martinez lifts his head, eyes narrowed and nods his head down towards her sheet when she meets his stare, and she obediently begins to scribble down a few Spanish sentences again. As soon as the burn from his gaze disappears from her face, she turns back to Brittany and stretches out her pinky on her left hand, minding not to drop the pen clasped there, and strokes along a pale wrist, her heart melting when a low sigh escapes the blonde girl.

"I don't mind," she starts again, this time in a whisper that even she can barely hear. "They're your friends. Do what you want."

It's not meant in a disheartening manor, or a cruel one either. It's meant in a supportive... friend sort of way. Obviously, she was planning on spending her Friday night all cuddled up with Brittany watching _Finding Nemo _again - because she can't get enough of that damn film since Brittany introduced her to it - but it's nice for Brittany to hang out with someone that isn't Santana. They've practically been inseparable since last Friday, anyway, so one night can't do that much damage.

Except something falls in Brittany's face, and Santana feels her brows pull together in confusion because that's not exactly the reaction she thought the girl would have. She thought she'd be happy that she gets to spend time with the Glee kids and not with Santana - not that she needs her permission or anything because she doesn't - but it'd just be a nice change from their past seven days or so.

But before she can question the change in expression, the smile is back on Brittany's face and she's resuming organizing the folder spread out across the width of their desk.

Santana doesn't notice how the smile doesn't quite reach her eyes, though.

* * *

They've been sitting outside Brittany's house for around five minutes, and for four and a half of those, they've pretty much just been staring at each other and playing with their hands that are clasped together across the center console.

Tonight, Susan told Brittany that they couldn't spend the night together as there were some family matters to deal with on the Pierce side, and Susan was sure the Santana's mom would like to see her without Brittany latched to her side at _some _point in time. Brittany had pouted as her mom announced it on speakerphone, and honestly? Brittany pouting? One of the most adorable sights like, _ever. _But eventually, after many attempts to compromise, they both reluctantly agreed and said that tomorrow, before the Glee party, Santana would come over and help Brittany choose her outfit and then drive her to the party to make up for their lost time. Which is what they're trying to do now; sitting in the car, stealing shy glances and rubbing their thumbs over knuckles to make up for their snuggles tonight, even if they don't even really compare to late night kisses and early morning cuddles they would usually have.

"I've gotta go soon," Santana starts, watching Brittany's face fall. "Your mom keeps peeking through the curtains."

"Does she?"

"Yeah," she laughs and lifts one of their clasped hands to gesture over the blonde girl's shoulder. "Unless Maddie's turned into Tarzan and the curtains are her vines."

Brittany chuckles but Santana can see how unhappy she is that they have to part, and it's not like Santana's not sad about them separating either, it's just that she's been mentally preparing herself for the past few days. Spending every second of her time with Brittany was going to have to end sooner rather than later; they're teenagers and live at home with their parents and believe it or not, aren't actually joined at the hip, but it still sucks big time. Every night for the past seven days they've fallen asleep in each other's arms, which in itself is an achievement seeing as Santana never thought either of their parents would be cool with it - even if they did offer to babysit Fern and Maddie in trade - but _hey_, she wasn't going to complain. The reward for babysitting two overactive seven year olds was Brittany, so it was one hundred percent worth the aggravation caused. Anything with Brittany at the end is worth it.

"She might have got a hold of some more Gatorade and it turned her into Tarzan," Brittany tries, a grin creeping upon her lips as she speaks and Santana can't help but duck her shaking head and chuckle.

Maybe last night, when she went over to the Pierce household to help Brittany babysit the most unsubtle seven year olds in the history of the world, Maddie and Fernando found the bottle of _Gatorade Rush_ she picked up at the gas station a few blocks away and decided it'd be a good idea to drink the '_pretty purple stuff_,' because it could potentially turn them into wizards or superheroes or some other supernatural being. Obviously, they needed a thorough gulp otherwise '_the spell wouldn't work_', and that ended up in Santana and Brittany chasing them around the house at 11:30pm, which is, at a push, at least about three hours after their bedtime.

Thank _God_ Susan was held up at the hospital otherwise Santana probably would've been sent home.

"Yeah," she gets out through a light chuckle, the memory flashing through her mind. "Let's not do that again."

"As long as you don't bring any energy drinks into my house ever again, I think we'll be fine."

"I was thirsty!"

Brittany raises a brow at her. "You had like, half a mile to drive before you could've got a drink from here."

Santana rolls her eyes but she knows it's true. The only reason she bought the drink though was because that morning, she woke up to warm lips pressed against hers and fingers dancing down her stomach and slipping underneath the waistband of her boxers to grip at her. It was one of the best ways to wake up, and she wasn't going to ruin the happiness fluttering in her stomach.

So, instead, she'd rolled on top of Brittany and settled between her long legs as she sucked Brittany's bottom lip between her own and felt the a smile against her mouth. Seconds later, she gave into their shared want by tugging down her boxers to release her throbbing erection, felt the condom cover her member and watched as Brittany pulled away with closed eyes, bit down on her bottom lip and pressed the back of her head into the pillow as Santana guided herself into her.

It was over hot and fast, both of them breathing heavily into each other's mouths as they came only moments apart, Brittany first and Santana second, but it was enough to wear Santana out for the entire day. She barely got through school, and so watching over Fernando and Maddie was going to be hard enough without some sort of energy boost. Gatorade was the only drink resembling the much needed energy in the gas station, and so Gatorade it was.

"I know," she continues. "But if you hadn't woke me up that morning with wandering hands, I wouldn't have needed it."

Brittany's cheeks and the tips of her ears tint with a dark pink, but she continues to stare at Santana with a confident smirk. "You're kinda hot," she says, leaning in.

Santana wets her lips with a poke of the tongue and then meets Brittany halfway, smiling into the kiss given as a hand wraps around her neck to keep their lips together a little longer. She pulls away, her vision dizzying slightly and smiles goofily at the blonde girl staring at her with a similar expression. The things this girl does to her are pretty insane.

Out the corner of her eye she sees the curtains twitch in the front room of the Pierce household and rolls her eyes. Susan's probably getting impatient.

"She's doing it again, isn't she?"

Santana nods. "Yep."

"Alright," Brittany breathes out, sounding disappointed as her eyes fall to her hand toying with Santana's sleeve. "I better get going."

"I don't want you to go," Santana's bottom lip juts out as she pick up Brittany's hands and pulls them into her lap, slightly possessively. Sadness settles into her chest and she feels her eyebrows scrunch together slightly as she thinks of the night ahead with no Brittany.

Brittany sighs and squeezes her hand to get her attention as the blonde speaks. "I know, babe, me neither. But my mom insisted I come home. Apparently there's something important to tell me."

Santana hums as she runs her thumbs over the skin between each of Brittany's knuckles. She wants to just sit here and wait it out as long as possible, even if that means Susan coming to get Brittany out. Although, she is debating just switching on the ignition and driving off so she can have Brittany all to herself. _God, _she's like a possessive child with its favorite toy.

"What are these _pressing family issues_ anyway?" She asks, voice emphasizing the last few words.

"I don't know. My mom just said I had to be home and it's not like she'd do it without a good reason so..." Brittany shrugs to finish off her sentence.

Curiosity shoots through her and her mouth pops open to ask more, but then she snaps it shut, knowing Brittany will tell her as soon as she knows, so it won't be bothering her for long. Instead of asking anything more, she nods, breathes in deeply and puts a smile on her face even though both of them know it's a fake one. There's no way she can smile when she's merely seconds away from leaving Brittany for the night.

"Right, okay, well, I'll see you in the morning then," Santana says and moves in to kiss Brittany quickly. At the same time she releases one of their hands and opens the door for the blonde girl. Brittany kisses back but pulls away with pressed lips and a furrowed brow and Santana hates that she just made her look like that.

"I'm sorry, San."

Santana squints and shakes her head. "It's not your fault," she says, acting cool and putting on the '_I don't care_' facade; another one she's perfected over the years. "You gotta do what you gotta do. You don't always need me around."

Brittany nods but there's something in her features that makes Santana feel a little uneasy. "Okay," the blonde says, reaching to hold the car door open. Santana's hand twitches with the urge to reach out and pull Brittany back in, but then she doesn't have to because Brittany turns back in her seat to face her and plays with her fingers in her own lap. Santana's hands feel strangely empty, right now.

"San," Brittany starts, eyes darting between her hands and Santana's face. Santana narrows her eyes, unsure of what's going to happen and why Brittany would hesitate in speaking. That's not like her at all. _Oh God. _What if she wants to have the talk? _Fuck. _In the car? Now! With Susan peering through the front curtains and watching over them! _No! _This is so _not _a good time for this!

"Would you, um," Brittany stops, nibbles on her bottom lip and looks up nervously, and Santana's heart thrums rapidly against her chest. "Do you want to-" she gulps and licks her lips and then takes in a deep breath before blurting out the rest of the question,"-come to my dance recital in a few weeks?"

Santana breathes out a sigh of relief and smiles, reaching over to tilt Brittany's chin up with a gentle flick of her finger. "Is that it?" She asks, a little breathless, only because her pulse is trying to regulate itself. Of all the questions she thought Brittany was going to ask, dance recital was _not _on the list.

Fair eyebrows scrunch together. "Santana... It's important to _me_," she says, lowly.

"No, no, no," Santana starts, head shaking from side to side. "I didn't mean that. I just thought you might want to ask-" the thought lodges in her mind at the same time the words lodge in her throat. She swallows them quickly, trying to search through her mind for a replacement. "-Thought you might wanna ask something else."

But Brittany catches on like she always does. "Like what?"

"Nothing," Santana replies, quickly. "But getting back to your dance recital," she diverts the conversation and glances away to avoid the disappointment that flashes behind Brittany's eyes. "I would love to come."

"Yeah?"

Santana nods as much as she can with her chin ducked to her chest. "Definitely," she breathes out with a smile tugging at her lips and lifts her head.

But then her smile falters as she catches the curtains move again over Brittany's shoulder and freezes. If Brittany's dancing at her recital, then that means she'll be on her own. With Brittany's family. Alone. Sure, she's done that before, but that was like, twice, and both times were for like five minutes at a time and full of conversation about Brittany. She's not sure she can spend a few hours with Susan without it getting pretty awkward or uncomfortable. Plus, she's pretty sure that makes her like, an honorary Pierce for the evening, going with the family and all, and that's not something she's quite prepared for that yet. That's putting some sort of official stamp on things and that's not something she can do, not yet. One day, yes. But not yet.

"Wait," she says and watches how Brittany's eyes fade a little. "Is that like... With your family?"

"Yeah. I mean, you've met my mom and talked to her. Maddie's going to be there too, so it's not like you'll be alone."

Santana nods warily. That's not what she meant but she doesn't want to talk about her irrational fears. "Yeah, of course," she feels her chest inflate as she sucks in a large gulp of air and shakes her head. "I would love to come."

Brittany smiles, her face brightening with excitement. "Yeah?" She says, bouncing in her seat a little.

"Yeah, Britt. I'd love to."

"Awesome," Brittany's eyes shine brightly and she wastes no time in pressing both palms onto the center console and supporting her upper half as she leans over to press a soft kiss to Santana's lips, smiling against her mouth and whispering a quick "thank you" when they break apart. Santana giggles against Brittany's mouth, hands coming up to cup pale cheeks as small, consecutive kisses are placed against her lips playfully.

"Okay," Brittany mumbles out around Santana's lips. "I gotta go."

Santana doesn't want to stop kissing Brittany, but the irrational part of her is saying that if she keeps Brittany any longer, then tomorrow Susan won't let her come over before the Glee party. So, with incredible reluctance, she kisses Brittany one last time and settles into her seat, moving her body as far away from the blonde as possible. If she's close then she won't be able to stop herself from touching Brittany. It's some sort of innate urge that's suddenly burned itself into her body over the past few weeks.

Brittany throws her a smile and a wink, and then pushes open the door and clambers out, lugging her bag over her shoulder. The door closes automatically, and Brittany rounds the car, eyes still flickering towards Santana whose hands move up to grip at the steering wheel as her own eyes drift down to Brittany's ass. She's pretty sure the blonde sways her hips a little more with a little more purpose whenever she's behind her, not that she minds _at all._

Winding down the window, Santana calls, "I'll see you tomorrow at 8, okay, baby?" to which Brittany nods and flashes a wide grin.

Santana's heart just melts a little more and as soon as the other girl disappears behind the door, head peeking out one final time to maintain the eye contact with Santana, she puts the car into drive and peels away from the curb with a huge grin on her face.

* * *

"Have you by any chance seen this incredible girl that agreed to come to my dance recital yesterday?"

Santana rolls her eyes, but there's a grin on her face that contradicts it. She closes her locker and then there, beside it is Brittany, back against the metal as she waves something about in front of her face. There's an equally large grin on her face and her blue are are so damn bright in the sunlight filtering through the hallway windows, that Santana finds herself thinking about this summer and how amazing it'll be to just spend everyday with Brittany. To just spend everyday seeing how the sunlight makes Brittany's eyes turn into sparkling sapphires and how her golden locks seems like a halo around her head as she twirls around in denim short shorts and a one size too small tank top that rides up with every twirl she performs down by the riverside.

"Have you?"

Santana's brought back to reality by Brittany's voice and shakes the images flashing through her mind away. Enjoyment buzzes through her, but then she's struck with a surge of fear as she thinks of how far away summer is and realizes if she wants to be with Brittany till then, that means there's got to be some sort of verbalized commitment traded between them and that means having '_the talk.'_

Suddenly it doesn't seem that good.

"I might have done," she finally responds, trying to put her mind into the conversation at hand. "What does this girl look like?"

Brittany studies her for a long second but then sinks into the question. Clearly she wants to keep it up.

"Well..." she drawls, pushing off the lockers with her shoulders and turning on her side, covered bicep pressed to the metal as she leans against it once more. Her eyes are aimed towards the ceiling and she purses her lips like she's trying to find a description and Santana can't quite believe she gets to kiss someone that adorable whenever the hell she wants.

"She has long dark hair," Brittany starts. "And a cute little button nose," she smiles as her eyes drift down to meet Santana's. "And irresistible, deep, dark eyes that make the butterflies in my stomach fly whenever they look at me." Santana grins, but then she feels exactly what Brittany's describing and shakes her head a little. "But most of all," Brittany begins again, leaning in until her lips are by Santana's ear. "She's really, _really _beautiful and makes me feel like I'm the best thing in the world."

Santana kind of, almost, faints right then and there. Brittany pulls back, and Santana makes this weird little sound that's halfway between a sigh and a groan because the other girl's just too much for words sometimes. When she finds her voice, it comes out a little croaky so she has to clear her throat before talking.

"That's because you are," she finally says and reaches up to brush back a lock of stray blonde hair fallen across Brittany's face. "You don't need me to look at you to know that."

"I do, but anyway," Brittany waves her hand around again, one grasping a small piece of card and holds it out after a few seconds. "Here's your ticket."

"My ticket?"

"For my dance recital."

The grin that spreads across her face is so damn big she's scared it might never come down again. She doesn't know why, but whereas before she was a little nervous about going - she still kind of is - there's now an excitement inside of her to know that she'll watch Brittany in her element. She'll watch Brittany play out her emotions and dance away all her feelings and that sort of overrides all her fears because honestly, she could watch Brittany dance all day, everyday.

Santana takes the ticket and opens her locker, picking up one of the lone magnets and pinning it to the inside of the door. She knows they've only been the way they are for a week or so, but it doesn't stop her from feeling proud to be invited to Brittany's dance recital. It's some sort of weird thing inside of her and doing this is another step in the direction of finally building up the confidence to have the inevitable talk with Brittany about what they are. And, because the recital is in a few weeks, she knows it's also a miniature commitment that isn't freaking her out as much as it should be. It's another step in the right direction.

And they may be baby steps, but they're steps none the less and it makes her feel like a million times better.

"The date is on the ticket," Brittany begins when Santana closes her locker and steps closer. "And it's at 8pm at Lima Grand Hall."

Santana reaches out and takes the other girl's hands, tugging lightly until their fronts are barely an inch apart and they're staring into each other's eyes. She knows there's a few students lingering in the hallway, and usually she'd be freaking out with such a public display of affection, but this is something she's getting used to know. She's slowly getting there. It's another baby step and they're all adding up.

"I'll be there."

"Promise?"

Instead of answering straight away, because frankly the answer should be obvious, Santana kisses Brittany, squeezing her hands gently as soon as their lips meet because it sends a spark through her body and makes her mind blank. Brittany doesn't kiss back straight away, probably shocked that Santana's kissing her in the middle of school with people around, but Santana just holds and waits until she feels the tell tale smile against her mouth and how her lip is lightly sucked between Brittany's lips.

"I promise," she whispers when they break apart, eyes searching both of Brittany's for any hesitancy or doubt.

"Awesome," Brittany beams and grins, widely. Santana smiles into the kiss pressed against her lips a second later and suddenly can't fight the excitement she feels for the dance recital.

* * *

"Black or pink?"

"What?"

"Black or pink?"

"I dunno."

Brittany drops her hands by her sides, grasping different colored bras in each one. "Santana," she says in a warning tone. "Help me pick!"

Santana sucks in her lips to hide the smile tugging at them as she kicks her feet off the edge of the bed, urging herself into a seated position to help Brittany.

It's Friday night, and they've been in Brittany's room for like, five minutes, and for the ten minutes before that Santana was flicking through the TV channels whilst the other girl took a shower. Many ideas of joining Brittany did pass through her mind - and shoot to her groin - but the blonde has about an hour to get ready and apparently doesn't want to be late. Something about Berry throwing the party and having a stick up her ass when people turn up '_later than the designated timings' _and how _'unladylike like that is nowadays.'_

She doesn't even know why Brittany's going.

(Even though she does because she told her to go.)

"Babe," she starts, hands flexing against the comforter on the bed. "You could wear one of those granny colored ones and it wouldn't matter. You'd still look smoking hot. _Plus,"_ she begins to smirk as Brittany twirls back around to the mirror, wearing only a towel with the edge tucked underneath her arm, and studies both bras against herself once more. It only takes two seconds before she's on her feet and stepping up behind the blonde girl, hands going to her towel-covered hips and chin resting onto her shoulder, lips grazing the spot beneath her ear gently. "It's not like anyone's going to see your bra so just choose one."

Brittany breathes in deeply and drops the pink bra. "Fine. Is this one okay?"

Santana tilts her chin up to peer properly into the mirror. "Yep," she says, making sure it's not one of those sexy ass bras Brittany bought from Victoria's Secret. She's reserved them for her eyes only. Come to think of that she should probably tell Brittany about that decision. "It's plain."

"Why does it matter if it's plain?"

She presses a gentle kiss to the girl's shoulder and backs away, sitting on the corner of Brittany's bed. "Just in case someone thinks it's a good idea to lift your top up when you're drunk."

Brittany seems amused. "Is that what happens at parties you're at?"

"Nope."

Brittany heads over to the dresser and opens the top drawer, taking out a pair of matching plain black panties. "Neither do the Glee kids," she says, dropping the towel and making Santana's eyes bug out of head.

Santana licks her lips, and unconsciously spreads her legs when heat builds around her collar. Her hands fall behind her, bracing the weight of her body as she unceremoniously allows her eyes to trace every movement Brittany makes as she slides a long, smooth leg into the holes of her panties, one at a time. Pale breasts hang slightly from where's she's bending over, and rosy nipples are pert from the chill in the air and she's having a really fucking hard time just sitting here, knowing she can't do anything about the way she's growing against the inside of her jeans. So, she just fists the comforter, trying to cause pain to override the building pleasure and continues to gaze at Brittany, completely consumed with lust.

As soon as Brittany clips together the clasp on her bra and stands, she smirks, noticing the hungry stare being shot her way. Santana doesn't notice though, instead focused on the line on the inner side of Brittany's thigh and remembering how it felt to drag her lips up it, teeth grazing lightly and tongue soothing seconds later. It doesn't do anything to quell the burning arousal inside of her, nor does it help the almost painful pressure the metal zip on the inner side of her jeans is causing to her throbbing member, but she figures she's too far gone already to turn back. She might as well keep going now that she's here.

"Which outfit?"

She doesn't even register the words, instead just shrugs as she wets her lips.

"Santana. Can you help me for a moment? I want to choose something nice to wear."

Still, her eyes are entirely focused on the blonde girl's body; the dip in her stomach, the small freckles by her belly button, the swell of her breasts and shape of her body. _God, _she's so beautiful it's almost hard to believe she's real.

"So you wouldn't mind if I wore absolutely nothing to the party?

_That _snaps her out of her daze and her neck cracks as she whips it up to glare at Brittany. Her brows pull together and she makes a small noise that sounds like a grunt as her head shakes furiously. "No," she argues. "That's not cool. Don't do that. Wear clothes. Lots of them."

Brittany smiles. "I was kidding," she says, holding up two hangers, one with a small blue dress on it, the other with a loose purple shirt and black tight skirt. "Now which one?"

Santana stands and crosses her arms, head tilting to the side to examine them. On one hand, the blue dress would bring out Brittany's eyes and make her boobs look incredible, but on the other hand she's not sure she wants the girl to look drop dead gorgeous. Not if she's not there to scowl at any of the Glee kids that check her out, because, let's get real, they totally would if Brittany wore that one. But then there's the loose purple shirt and black tight skirt which is more casual, but Santana chose that at the mall last weekend solely on the fact that the skirt would make her ass that fucking _incredible._

Maybe a plastic bin bag would be a better idea. Or like, a hazmat suit; something to cover her up and something that might possibly make her seem less attractive, even though she's pretty sure nothing like that exists. Brittany's beautiful in just about anything.

"Hmmm..." Santana steps towards the blonde and holds out her hands, gesturing for the blonde to hand over the hangers. She does, and then holding them up against Brittany's body, she decides which one would make her hold Brittany closer if she went to the party with her, and chooses from that.

"The skirt and blouse," she settles on, holding out said outfit.

Brittany narrows her eyes and smirks as she takes the clothes. "Why this one?" She asks, unbuttoning the first few buttons and then slipping the shirt over her head.

Santana gazes in appreciation, the pressure still building in her jeans as she blindly throws the hanger onto the bed and grasps the skirt with her hand. The blonde smiles at her when she takes it, letting her fingers brush over the back of tanned knuckles, and she almost decides there and then that Brittany shouldn't go to the Glee party tonight and instead spend the night in this bedroom with her seeing as she has zero plans for tonight.

Come to think of it, actually, she's not entirely sure what to do with her night. She could call Sugar, because since their conversation yesterday they've been smiling at each other in the hallways and making conversation in Geometry, because now they can now sit together 'cause there's no awkwardness lingering between them - another bonus is now she doesn't have to sit next to that foreign exchange student with a _bad _case of halitosis and shift away from him every time he shuffles a little closer to her, either - but that might be a bit weird. Even before the whole Quinn fiasco, spending time alone with Sugar was strange, and despite yesterday's half hour on the field with her, hours of it would just be too much to handle.

And to be honest, that'd just be _another _new experience and Santana's had enough of them for the next three years of her damn life. So she's good for now, but that still leaves her with nothing to do tonight.

So she just guesses she'll just sit at home and scroll through Facebook, catching up on all the gossip she's missed. Sure, she may not be the person she used to be, but that doesn't mean she isn't interested in other things. Knowing what's going on in the world outside of her and Brittany would probably be healthy. After all, her mind and heart have been solely focused on Brittany for the past few weeks.

"I don't know," she answers, pushing the skirt into the other girl's hands Brittany pulls the blouse so it settles around her hips. "Although," Santana smirks, shamelessly checking the blonde. "It _does_ make your ass look good."

Brittany smirks at her, eyebrow raised. "Is _that _why you chose it?"

"What can I say? I'm an ass girl."

"Shut up and get me my makeup bag," Brittany says playfully, scrunching her nose and pointing towards the vanity table in the far corner where a leopard print bag sits next to the mirror. "Please."

Santana does as she's told and heads over to the vanity table, picking up the bag and throwing it up in the air and catching it as she walks back to Brittany. In the back of her mind she does wonder when she got so damn whipped, because if anyone _told _her to fetch them something instead of asking her to fetch it a few weeks back, she would've shown them just where they could shove it. But nope, again, it's Brittany; completely different to everything and everyone else and so she does it happily.

"Thank you," Brittany whispers, eyelashes fluttering in a way that makes Santana's knees buckle as she takes the make up bag.

It takes a second to figure out how to breathe again. "Th-that's cool," Santana says, blushing slightly. She didn't even know she _could _blush until she met Brittany.

Brittany lets out a little chuckle and Santana turns stiffly on her heels as she turns and sits back down on the bed. She kicks out her feet, crossing one ankle over the other but doesn't lean back like she did before, and is still a little shocked at how Brittany can affect her in this way. She's still getting used to it and right now, she's finding herself a little breathless and not because of lack of air. She's just sort of forgotten how to function.

By the time she works out how to get oxygen back into her lungs, Brittany's tucking the hem of her loose shirt into her skirt and puffing it out around the band a little so it flows over. And Santana finds herself slightly mesmerized because she was pretty sure this outfit _wasn't _supposed to make Brittany look like a freakin' supermodel, and yet here she is, standing there with her flawless body and golden locks that are in their natural loose curls around her shoulder, looking like an angel with bright blue eyes and glowing skin.

And now all night, Santana's just going to be playing this image over and over in her mind whilst her heart beats off rhythm because Brittany isn't by her side. She's just going to be thinking about all the Glee kids and how lucky they are to spend a night with Brittany, when she's stuck at home thinking about Brittany. It's petty, and pretty pathetic, but it makes her feel sad that she can't parade around with Brittany and her friends, _especially _when she looks like this. Santana wants to be a part of Brittany's life, but she understands why she wasn't invited tonight. It doesn't make it any better, though.

God, tonight is going to suck _big time_.

"You know, if you keep looking at me like that I'm not going to leave."

Santana's eyes snap up to blue ones. "Looking at you like what?"

Brittany comes to stand in front of her, hands coming up to rest on her shoulders as the blonde girl leans into her, looks down and smiles. "Like you want me to stay here with you 'cause you'll miss me too much."

"I _do _want you to stay here with me," Santana replies as she moves her hands to grip at the back of long legs. "And I will miss you. A lot."

"Then I'll stay."

"No," Santana breathes out, bowing her head and leaning forward to press her forehead into Brittany's stomach. Fingers instantly thread through her hair and begin to comb in a soothing rhythm. "You should go," it comes out as a mumble so she pulls her head back to stare up at the other girl. "Go and have a nice time with your friends. You deserve it."

Brittany's staring down at her, and Santana can tell the girl's concerned just by the way blue eyes roam around her face. She doesn't even know how to make it better because there's part of her that wants Brittany to go because she's not _that _person. She's not the person that gets jealous that their... _Brittany, _or whatever is their equal, gets to spend time with other people. She's not the overprotective and possessive type because she doesn't do that, that's just not her.

"Santana, if you want me to stay then just say," Brittany says after a long minute, hands raking through dark locks. "I don't mind cancelling with them."

It's so tempting to just say 'okay' and tug Brittany on top of her and just hold her against her chest, but she can't. Brittany _should _spend time with other people that aren't Santana. It's healthy and God only knows if two people spend too much time together without anyone else, they become way too dependent on each other, and she just can't have that. She can't have her life revolving around Brittany. She just _can't_.

(Although she thinks it kind of might already.)

She sucks in a deep breath through her nose and breathes out as she replies, "No it's cool, Britt. You should go. I've got to babysit Fern anyway."

It's not exactly a lie, but it's not the truth. Her mom isn't going out or anything but every first Friday of the month, she usually sits with little brother and watches TV until his bed time whilst her mom and dad have an hour or two to themselves in the kitchen, eating a take out and drinking a bottle of red wine her dad brings home on his way back from work. And yeah, it may be the second Friday of the month today, but last Friday she had Puckerman's party and her mom didn't mind rescheduling it to today. Plus, the only reason she's telling Brittany is because if she tells the blonde girl that she has no plans for tonight then there's no way in hell Brittany will go to the party. So it helps, really.

Brittany's fingers unthread from her hair, dropping to her shoulder. "You have to babysit Fern?" The blonde repeats, slightly suspiciously. "Since when?"

"My mom texted me earlier," she replies, the lie flowing off her tongue a lot easier than it should. She hates that she can lie to Brittany like that. Blue eyes narrow and for a second, she's sure the blonde is seeing straight through the lie, but then Brittany lets out a sigh and says, "okay," as she leans down to dust a kiss across the crown of Santana's head before turning and paying attention to her make up once more.

Santana just leans back and watches the girl in silence.

* * *

About forty five minutes later, they're downstairs and Brittany's grabbing the half empty bottle of vodka out the liquor cabinet as Santana stands by the door, swinging her keys around her finger. Seeing the blonde grab the alcohol makes her chest twinge and she just wishes she were there tonight to whip up a cocktail with some of that vodka and hand it over before they all begin the party, but she'd never say that out loud.

Even now, after this whole transition, she can't ever imagine herself partying with the kids of Glee. They would just clash. An ex-cheerleader that used to torture them endlessly probably wouldn't settle down well, no matter how accepting they are, because it's just a law of nature. The lion wouldn't go and hang out with the antelope after trying to tear one of the pack's throats out, and so neither would she.

"Is that all you're taking?" She asks, eying up the clear liquid sloshing around in the bottle as Brittany tucks it inside her bag.

"Well, yeah. Somehow we always manage to get our hands on some alcohol anyway, but this will be enough for me." Brittany replies, shrugging as she zips up her bag and heads towards Santana.

"Oh, right. Okay. Well," Santana pushes off the wall and meet the blonde girl halfway, tugging each side of her jacket together when they get close enough. "Shall we get going?"

"Yeah. Let me just grab my house keys."

Santana nods and rocks forward to press a kiss to Brittany's forehead a second before the blonde whisks away and heads back towards the kitchen with a smile playing at her lips. Feeling that little ache inside of her chest that keeps repeating the fact that tonight she has no Brittany, Santana opens the front door and heads outside, breathing in the cool air deeply as her hands dig into her jeans pockets, keys still in the right one. It's not a cold night, but it's not exactly warm, and she hopes that the party will mostly be inside because if Brittany's drinking she'll probably forget to put her coat on if she takes it off and might catch a cold.

_Jesus Christ_, she's worrying so much. This is only a damn party with the _Glee _kids; there's nothing to worry about.

"Are you okay?"

The voice startles her and she jolts a little, yanking her hands out her pockets and dropping her keys simultaneously. She lets out a relieved sigh when she turns back and sees Brittany standing there with a concerned expression, one very similar to the one she wore earlier, but can't help but feel a slight twinge because she knows she put that there. _Again. _She doesn't even know what she's doing but she's sure it's not good, not judging by Brittany's eyes.

She bends down, picks up her keys and grips them tightly as she replies with, "Yeah, just not with it."

Brittany pinches her lips up at the side but doesn't say anything more, just shuts the front door and slides the key into the lock. Santana doesn't know whether to take that as a good sign or not and instead heads down the stoop and towards her car in the driveway, clicking it open with the key fob and sliding into the drivers seat. As soon as she door shuts, she glances out the tinted window and sees Brittany standing on the porch, hands clasped together in front of her with her bag dangling off her wrist and shoulders hunched as she looks towards the car and away again. Santana swears she sees her lips move, but can't really tell from this distance so just waits until the passenger door swings open and the blonde slinks into the seat next to her.

It feels a little weird, because it's like they've just had an argument or something and this is the aftermath of it. But they haven't and Santana can't quite figure out why it feels like there's so much distance between them when really there's barely a six inch gap. It's not like she's acting weird, it's just that she's been thinking about how awful it feels not to have Brittany for a night and truth be told, it's kind of freaking her out. She can't forever spend all her time with Brittany and so she needs to put a little space between them even though everything within her is rejecting the very idea.

She ignores it though, breathing in and shaking her head as the key slides into the ignition and brings the car to life, and she feels blue eyes flicker over to her as she slings her shoulder around the headrest of the passenger seat and twists her head to peer out the back window as she reverses out the driveway.

* * *

They're about a minute into their journey, and a minute of Brittany's eyes boring into the side of her head, when the blonde lets out a loud sigh and slumps her shoulders down, defeated. Santana wants to react to the it the way she normally would. She _really _fucking wants to pull the car over and just tug the other girl into her lap, whispering hushed apologies into Brittany's hair and get rid of this weird atmosphere surrounding them, but she can't. She doesn't know if she's the only one feeling it and there's this strange ache in the center of her chest that she can't quite put a finger on, telling her that she shouldn't say anything because there's nothing to really speak about. Nothing's happened between them and for all she knows she could be making this up inside her own head. It's paranoia or some shit.

But then something happens and she just knows she's not the only one to feel this _thing _between them.

Brittany shifts in her seat, and in one swift movement reaches over and slides her fingers into the gaps of Santana's on the gear stick. Slightly shocked, Santana flinches and feels Brittany wince in reaction and all she wants to do is tell her that it was automatic, but _once again_, she can't. The strange ache in the center of her chest is causing her heart to beat a little off rhythm and her mind is whispering that if everything _was _okay, then she wouldn't have reacted to Brittany's touch like that.

_This is stupid, _she thinks, subtly shaking her head. _We'll be back to normal tomorrow. _

She repeats it over and over in her mind, and tells herself that this heavy air hanging around them with disappear. It's nothing, she's just being silly. Her and Brittany are fine, and she should just stop freaking thinking about it.

"Are you okay?" Brittany whispers softly, and Santana keeps her eyes straight on the road, tightening her fist around the steering wheel as they go through an intersection.

"Yep," she croaks out and nods, like she's trying to convince herself more than Brittany.

Brittany stays quiet after that, and Santana feels like something needs to be done to reassure Brittany that she _is _in fact, okay. So, slowly, she slips her hand out from underneath Brittany's, with the intention of flipping it over and holding the blonde girl's hand properly, but by the time she's taken her hand away from beneath a pale one, Brittany's taken it back and let it rest alongside the other one in her lap, her eyes completely focused on the passing houses outside the passenger side window.

And for some fucking reason, Santana doesn't feel like she can reach over and bring it back to where it was a minute ago. Her brow furrows, and lower lip quivers and she bites it to stop the sudden rush of heat prickling at her eyelids because she's not entirely sure what the hell just happened, or what she did.

So, instead of leaving her hand awkwardly in the air, she just reaches up and grips the wheel with both hands, ignoring the way the ache in her chest grows with the silence lingering between them.

* * *

They get to Kurt's house around 7:30, and Santana puts on the handbrake when she stops, but doesn't turn off the ignition. Brittany twists in her seat, bottom lip sucked into her mouth and eyes slightly squinted like she's not entirely sure what she's supposed to do or say. Santana knows the feeling.

"Are you not coming in?" Brittany finally says, breaking the silence.

Santana shakes her head, but keeps her eyes straight ahead, watching the headlights illuminate the dark street ahead. "No, I've gotta get home to Fern," she breathes out. "And I wasn't invited anyway, so."

She leaves the rest up for interpretation and Brittany drops her eyes to her lap, chin to her chest and nods. "Yeah," she says softly, lifting her head once more. "They wouldn't mind, you know."

"I'd feel like I was intruding," Santana replies, finally shifting her gaze to the blonde girl. "It's your friends and your thing anyway. ."

A low, throaty chuckles escapes Brittany as she repeats, "yeah, _my _friends," under her breath, sadly.

Santana doesn't have enough time to go over what just happened in her mind before the blonde girl is pushing open the door and stepping out. Confused, she winds down the drivers window in time, ready to call her back but then she realizes she doesn't have to because Brittany's already leaning in through the window and resting her forearms on the frame. A low gasp comes from deep in her lungs and she swallows it, eyes roaming around the blonde girl's face as she tries to figure out what's going on between them.

And that makes everything just a hundred times worse than it already is. It's one of the reasons Santana has never got into a relationship or into a situation like _this _with a girl before. She doesn't know how things work, and doesn't know how to handle the situation when things get weird. She's never understood the complications of relationships, never understood what the right thing to say is and never understood whether in this situation she's supposed to go into the party with Brittany anyway - despite all previous reservations about _not _going in - or whether she should just drive home and later, lie in bed, stare at her ceiling and spend the early hours of the morning thinking about it over and over again until she's frustrated.

Or maybe she should just try and change the conversation, to try and get out of this weird funk they're in and move onto something nicer.

"Sa-"

"Will you call me when you get home?"

She doesn't even mean to interrupt Brittany, but they both start talking at the same time and it just so happens that the blonde girl snaps her mouth shut first. Santana wrings her hands around the wheel, grip deathly tight, and smiles apologetically. Apparently moving onto something nicer wasn't on Brittany's agenda, judging by the way her body deflates at her interruption.

"Sorry," she whispers, eyes locked with Brittany's. "What were you going to say?"

Brittany breathes in deeply, the corners of her lips lifting slightly but it's clear no effort is being put behind the weak attempt of a smile. Santana fucking _hates _that. "Nothing," the blonde girl breathes out, stepping back from the car and further onto the pavement. "And yeah, I will call you."

This is the part with the goodbye kiss, and usually one of them has already initiated it and their lips are already brushing against each other. But now they're just staring at each other like both are afraid of making the move, and it's stupid, and fucking ridiculous, but Santana just can't seem to break past this strange barrier preventing her from moving forward. It could be because Brittany's out of reach, and far enough away that if Santana doesn't coax her forward she won't come, but still, it doesn't make her feel any better. Neither of them are moving and they're still just gazing at each other wordlessly.

"Thank you. Hope you have a good night, Britt," Santana says, breaking the silence and shifting in her seat so she can lift her hips off and lean further out the window.

Brittany's eyes flash with something she thinks is relief, and then takes a step forward, hand coming up to cup a tanned cheek as she leans and brings their mouths together in a soft kiss. It lingers a little longer than usual but when they break, she feels a thumb brush on the underside of her lower lip, and eyes stare past hers and into her soul. It should make her feel vulnerable, and scared, and make her scamper back home with her metaphorical tail between her legs, but instead she embraces it, like the last time this happened and hopes Brittany can see her hesitations and how she's feeling because there's no way she can voice it.

"I'll try," Brittany responds, in a way that says _but it would be better if you were there, _and Santana sucks in her lower lip the second the hand, hot and heavy, on her face retracts.

"Bye, Brittany," she says, as the blonde girl turns away and heads up the path towards the house.

She shifts to switch the ignition on, but remembers she never turned it off and then almost slaps herself in the head right there. Now she gets bad that might have come across; not wanting to turn the car off so she could get a quick getaway. She almost jumps out the car then and there to explain to Brittany, but figure there'll be another time to do it. Tonight, they just need some time apart. Too much time together is never good and that's the cause for this heavy atmosphere around them. That's all.

_Tomorrow, _she thinks. _Tomorrow and it'll all be fine._

Still, that doesn't stop her from feeling Brittany's gaze burn into the back of her head as she peels away from the curb and down the road.

* * *

Santana wakes up Saturday morning and rolls over, hand blindly reaching for her phone with the growing hope that maybe she'll get a text from Brittany today instead. Usually, it's her thing, waking up ten minutes before the blonde girl does just so she can bring a smile to her face when she wakes up and checks her phone to find _morning beautiful_ with three kisses and a smile face. It's corny, and something you'd get out of a chick flick, but when she picks Brittany up in the morning and can't even get a word out because warm, soft morning kisses are being pressed to her lips, she doesn't mind so much.

Except this morning, she doesn't wake up to a text, and she forgot to set her alarm so there was no text sent from her side; and she fucking hates the way the heavy atmosphere inside the car has seeped its way through her skin and settled low in her gut. Even now, she can still feel it and it's making her chest ache. Maybe sending a morning text would've alleviated some of it. Maybe sending a morning text would make this dull ache in the left hand side of her chest fade.

Or maybe she's just over thinking this entire thing.

Yeah, that's the one.

* * *

It gets to midday and she still hasn't heard from Brittany.

Sitting at the table, with a few pieces of homework scattered messily across the top, she drums her fingertips on the wood and stares at her phone like she's waiting for something to happen. And that's actually what she's doing, just sitting here, pointedly _not _doing her homework and just hoping that maybe Brittany will text her.

Five minutes, and the sound of her mom coming through the front door, later, Santana reaches for her phone and slides it open, quickly punching in her code and heading straight for the contacts. She finds Brittany's name quickly – it being at the top of her favorites – and allows her thumb pad to hover over it for a few seconds before she shakes her head and presses down. She brings the phone to her ear, and rests her opposite elbow on the table as she begins to bite on her nails, listening to the ringing of Brittany's phone. Her eyes flicker to the clock above the fridge and finds that it's 10am, so Brittany should be up already. She's not one for sleeping in, and so yeah, she should be up.

But then the sweet sound of Brittany's voice on her answerphone flows through her ears and Santana scrunches her brows together, jaw clenching as she takes the phone away from her ear and stares at it, like it's going to give her some type of explanation as to why Brittany isn't picking up. Thousands of possibilities run through her mind as she thinks about it, but then she knows how utterly ridiculous ninety percent of them are and attempts to find a reasonable one because there's no way in hell Brittany was abducted by aliens, or like, mugged in Kurt Hummel's house. Unless of course one of the Glee kids was playing a prank that included stealing Brittany's phone, and then drank too much and forgot to hand it back afterward.

_A hangover, _she finally comes to. If Brittany was partying, and the Glee kids are how she described, then they would've had a good time and the majority of them would have definitely drunk too much. Which means undoubtedly – unless they had super genes or developed the ability to never suffer from brain dehydration – Brittany and the rest of them will have a hangover. So they wouldn't necessarily wake up early. Right?

"Santana, mija, can you fetch some of the groceries from the car?"

Santana carefully puts down her phone, pushing it towards the center of the table with the tips of her fingers as she processes her mother's words. "Si, mami," she responds, eyes fixated on the dimming LED screen, wishing that Brittany might have missed the call and in this instant is dialing back.

But after three and a half minutes of sitting there, staring at her phone and hearing her mother struggle in with the groceries, Santana pushes out her chair and goes to help her.

Brittany doesn't call back.

* * *

Around 3pm, her phone buzzes on the arm of her sofa and she drops the TV remote and basically leaps over her little brother to grab it. Fernando yells something about her pushing him, or whatever, but she doesn't really care about that. Panting slightly, the lack of breath from the shock and relief pulsing through her, she slides open her phone and curses herself for ever putting a lock code on it because she enters it wrong at least three or four times. But then it opens and a cool wave washes over her as she sees Brittany's name come up in her conversation box.

_Hey. Sorry I missed your call earlier - Britt x_

Santana frowns at the lack of kisses and explanation, but thinks nothing more of it because the blonde has probably just woken up and checked her phone. She's probably a little groggy and is blinking lazily at the screen as she fumbles for the buttons, so the lack of content in the text is probably reasonable.

_Hey, just making sure you're alright. How was last night? – San xx_

She bites nervously on her nails, staring at the phone screen and swiping her thumb over it when it dims slightly, and just waits. It's only about a minute before it vibrates in her hand once more and a little white bubble pops up beneath her green one.

_Yeah, I'm alright. Sorry, can't talk right now. Maddie needs me. Speak later – Britt xx_

Slumping back into the sofa, she allows her phone to slide out her grasp and onto the floor as she tries to make sense of what's going on. She knows yesterday there was that weird tension, but surely that's not enough to keep Brittany upset... Is it? Her mind races with thoughts – most of them irrational – and she breathes in and out heavily, lip instantly falling into a pout as her features fall.

Maybe they just need a little more time apart. Without speaking, for a bit. That'll make everything better.

She's sure of it.

* * *

It takes three hours and thirty four minutes for her to get to sleep, and even then it's only because she basically passes out from sheer exhaustion. Her mind's been working double time today, and the stress is doing nothing to keep her head from aching and heart from falling out it's natural rhythm. Brittany keeps it in beat and even though it's probably a silly and stupid idea to think the blonde girl is mad or upset with her, she still can't fight the feeling that things just aren't right.

That's her last thought before her mind and body gives out to sleep.

* * *

Sunday isn't any different to Saturday.

Santana wakes up, checks her phone and is struck with disappointment. No text from Brittany. She checks her Facebook, and sees a few of the Glee kids posting about how they've only just got over their hangover and it lifts something from her chest. She puts it down to Brittany's drinking being excessive and the aftermath being pretty damn bad, and she breathes out a sigh of relief.

When she stumbles down the stairs, rubbing away the tired ache scratching at her lids, her mother tells her that they've got a family BBQ to attend to in an hour and scalds her for not waking up earlier. Santana quickly runs back up the stairs and begins to get ready – because it takes half an hour to get to the BBQ and she still needs to shower – and does everything in half the usual time, which is an achievement in itself.

Her father calls up to her, telling her to hurry her ass up because they're already running late and she slips on her converses – casual wear, her mother said – and grabs a cardigan just in case the weather turns dreary, and sprints down the stairs and straight out the door. Fernando's throwing a miniature tantrum because he can't do up his own seat belt yet, and Santana clambers into the car, hair disarrayed, and smiles softly at him as she helps her brother.

If it weren't for doing up Fernando's seat belt, she would've sooner realized that her phone's upstairs on the side table next to her bed still on charge, and not realized when they passed the 'Leaving Allen County' sign on the Harding Highway where her dad said they were too far gone to go back and get it.

Nor would she have missed the two calls from Brittany.

* * *

A family BBQ, apparently, turns out to be a casual thing up until 7pm, when all the kids head inside and watch a movie, and that's when the Lopez' bring out the alcohol; whiskey for the men and wine for the women. Santana, for her part, is the only teenager there, and doesn't fit within either group. All day she's been playing with the kids, and pushing away the nervous jig in her leg as she curses herself for forgetting her phone, and now they're inside – probably falling asleep on each other – and the adults are drinking, she realizes that she wants nothing more than Brittany by her side, holding her hand and gazing at her lovingly. She really fucking misses Brittany.

Two hours later, and her mother's drunk a bottle and a half of wine, and her dad's shared a bottle of whiskey with her uncle and godfather, and Santana rolls her eyes because that means she's driving back tonight. On one hand, that gives her the advantage of having something to drive, but on the other she can't exactly ditch her family and drive back to Lima on her own.

So she just rests her chin in her hand and spends up until 12am watching her family members drink and laugh at things she doesn't even hear. Her mind's too occupied with Brittany to join in, anyway.

* * *

It's weird to see her mother so alive at this time of night – or morning – but it's amusing, none the less. She slides the key into the lock and opens the front door of her house when they arrive home, and due to Fernando still being in the car, and her dad helping her chuckling mom out the car – which is pretty damn funny – she can't run upstairs and check her phone right away.

So she heads back to the car, leaving the front door wide open for her dad to carry her mom through, and undoes Fernando from his car seat before hitching him up on her hip. He's getting a little big for this, but she doesn't really give a crap right now because she just wants to talk to Brittany and go to bed, and she has school in about, _oh, _seven hours.

"Tana..." Fernando mumbles into her neck, at the same time she feels the first drop of drool creeping along the strap of her tank top. "Wherf a-re?"

It comes out as a mumble and she takes a second to figure it out, but then she cuddles him closer as she steps over the threshold into her house. "We're at home, Squirt," she whispers, pressing a kiss to his hair. "I'm just putting you to bed."

Fernando nods against her neck and she smiles a little, it feeling foreign because she's pretty sure this is the first time she's smiled this weekend, and then carries him to his room. When she passes her own bedroom, she almost crumbles at the urge to check her phone which glows tauntingly in the dimness of her room, but knows her brother's her priority right now.

She puts him to bed, fully clothed because she's too tired to change him, and turns on his Blues Clues light in the corner of the room before exiting. Slumping against the door, and listening to her mother giggle, probably at nothing, she heads towards her room and almost falls flat on her face when she remembers her phone. As soon as she unlocks it, she finds five texts and three missed calls on her phone.

Three of the texts are from Brittany, and two of the calls are too, but what she finds strange is the two other texts are from Sugar and Kurt, and the call is from Quinn. Instantly, her mind falls to panic mode, but then she opens the blonde girl's texts and scans over them quickly, finding the first one which was sent at 12pm, about ten minutes after her dad locked the front door.

_Hey, San. Sorry about yesterday. Was quite busy. What are you up 2 today? - Britt x_

Her face scrunches together as she thinks that today she could have spent with a goofy grin on her face as she wrapped Brittany up in her arms, instead of watching her family members drink too much and talk about '_the old days_' where they undoubtedly did something incredibly boring but still find it funny after all these years. The amount of times she rolled her eyes was ridiculous. At one point, she was actually scared they were going to stay up there.

Pushing aside her thoughts, Santana scrolls further down her text and reads the next one, sent at 6pm.

_Santana? - Britt x_

Santana rubs her hand over her face as she mentally slaps herself for not taking her phone. Her eyes flicker momentarily towards the clock on her side table and she finds it to be 1am. There's no doubt Brittany will be asleep and so there's no point in replying now.

_God, _if she only took her stupid phone.

_I'm going to bed now, night San – Brittany x_

That last text makes her heart ache, and she slumps back onto the bed, phone dropping to her side as she stares up at the ceiling. She can just imagine Brittany sitting by her phone, waiting for a reply that wasn't going to come and it just makes her want to slap herself in the head. If she'd taken her damn phone, this could have all been avoided and instead of wondering if Brittany's asleep and whether she can give her a call without waking Maddie or Susan, she could be brushing Brittany's hair away from her face, kissing her softly and muttering 'goodnight' as they snuggle further into the covers.

_Fuck. _She _really _wishes she took her phone.

* * *

The phone rings seven times before Brittany's voice comes down the other end. Santana's heart jumps for about half a second before she realizes it's the answerphone and _not _Brittany picking up with a smile in her tone. Burying her head further into the pillow, Santana drops her phone onto the bed and lets out a heavy sigh, ignoring the craving inside of her that needs to hear Brittany's voice, just to make sure everything between them is okay.

_Tomorrow, _she thinks. _I'll talk to Brittany tomorrow and everything will be fine._

She shuts her eyes and it's not until the birds start chirping that she falls asleep.

* * *

Since Brittany's car broke down all those weeks ago, the blonde has had to walk to school. And Santana's made this little routine – _well_, last week she did it because before that they had a little problem with the whole popularity thing before – where she'd pull up outside the Pierce household and wait at the end of the pathway until Brittany's bedroom curtain twitched, and then seconds later a bumbling blonde comes bouncing out the front door with a Cheshire grin on her face. Together, they'd ride to school and climb out the car, sharing shy glances as they headed into school side by side, bumping shoulders and clutching at their bags in a knuckle whitening grip so they wouldn't grip onto each other.

So, not wanting to break the tradition of the past week, Santana does exactly that and steers the car towards Brittany's house, drumming her fingertips along the top of the steering wheel to whatever is playing on the radio whilst decidedly _not _thinking about how damn nervous she is. When she stops outside though, she feels this weird pang inside her chest and this creeping chill down her spine, almost like she shouldn't be here. But she ignores it, and takes her phone off the dashboard and stares at it. Since last week, every morning she'd get this text just as she pulled up outside the Pierce household that from Brittany saying she knew she was here – which the first time, admittedly, was kind of freaky because she'd _just _pulled up – and they would kind of make Santana's heart skip a beat because they'd always be sweet and _always _make her smile.

Today's different, though.

Today, she's sitting outside in her car, glaring at the background of her phone and just waiting. She sits back in her chair, and kicks her legs out between the spaces in the pedals and keeps switching between looking at the house and her phone, to see if she can spot a curtain twitching or a flash of blonde hair. She sits and waits, and tells herself Brittany might have woken up late, that Brittany might have not charged her phone but is currently rushing around inside to find it.

She spares one final look towards the house and then slumps further into her seat and just waits.

* * *

About six minutes later, she glances at the clock and knows that if she doesn't leave in five minutes she's going to be late for first period. She wrings her hands around the steering wheel, sucks in her bottom lip between her teeth and chews nervously as she decides what to do. Should she just go and knock at the front door? That would probably be a good idea but she doesn't want to act all needy, even if she _is _being needy at the moment. And, if Brittany's rushing, she doesn't need another distraction 'cause God only knows when they're around each other they're distracting.

But, then again, she knows that if she doesn't go and knock, she could just be sitting out here and waiting and no doubt she'd get in shit for being late when they finally get to school.

_Stop being so pathetic, _she curses herself, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. _Just go in._

Climbing out the car, she waits until the door swings shut before pressing the lock on her key fob. The car beeps behind her, and she sticks her hands in her shorts pockets as she heads up the pathway. It's like one of those dreams where the path keeps getting longer and the house keeps getting bigger as she tries to get closer and closer, but she puts it down to being nervous – which of course she would be after the lack of contact between them this weekend – and powers through.

She stands at the door, and lifts her hand to leave it linger over the doorbell as she cranes her neck to the right to see if she can peer inside the living room window. Turns out, she can't, the curtains are blocking her view, and so she curls her fist and decides to rap three times on the door before stepping back. Burying her hands back in her pockets, she rocks up onto the balls of her feet and back down again, thinking that maybe she should have brought a jacket with her and hears the tell tale signs of feet padding along the hardwood floor on the other side of the door.

Susan pulls open the door, and immediately her brow furrows in confusion. Santana knows why that is; it's half eight in the morning and she should be at school by now, but still, she feels like she should explain.

"Hello, Susan," she greets, raising her hand in a half-wave as her eyes roam over the blonde woman's shoulder. "Is, erm– Brittany home?"

Susan smiles at her graciously, but shakes her head. There's still that something that Santana finds off about the way the older woman looks at her. Like she's just waiting for something. Like she's waiting for Santana to screw up.

"No, Santana. Her car was fixed at the weekend so she drove in today," Santana's heart sinks as the older woman leans against the door frame and crosses her arms, concern etched across her face. "Didn't she tell you?"

"No," Santana replies thickly, ignoring the missed beat in her chest. She ducks her chin to her chest and sighs heavily, "She didn't."

"Well, I'm sure she just forgot," Susan tries, eyes a sparkling blue. "You know how she is."

Santana nods. _Yeah, _she knows how Brittany is and that's _not _Brittany. "Of course. Sorry for interrupting your morning," she says, turning on her heel and starting to walk back to the car.

"That's okay. Have a nice day at school, dear."

She turns, and offers a weak nod and a smile that matches it, but as soon as her face is is out of the blonde woman's sight, she smile falters and she gulps thickly. It's not unlikely that Brittany would drive to school if her car was fixed, but like, she would have let Santana know, surely? She wouldn't just assume she wasn't picking her up – especially because she has been doing it for the past week or two – and yeah, sure, clearly Brittany doesn't need a lift because she has a car, but a text would have been nice or something.

Santana clenches her jaw, breathes in deeply and shuts her eyes as she slides into the driver's seat, trying to rid the anger out her veins. There's probably a rational reason why Brittany didn't text her so there's nothing to worry about.

Yep. Nothing _at all._

* * *

It's not exactly weird for Santana to be stared at as she walks down the hallway.

It's just that for a while, no-one's been doing it. So when it comes to walking down the centre of the corridor, and people staring at her and whispering, to say she gets suspicious would be putting it mildly. Heat prickles over her skin and around her face, and something uncomfortable flips in her stomach when she sees Sugar and Kurt waiting outside the Choir room, talking quietly and suddenly fretting when they see her.

As soon as she pulled into the parking lot, people stared. When she parked in her usual spot, people stared. When switched off the ignition and climbed out her car, people still fucking stared and she really doesn't, and still doesn't, get why the hell they're were staring. Even Finnocence and Puckerman were fucking staring at her. They even made such a point to throw the last of the AV kids into the trash and turn their _entire _attention towards Santana, only to look away when Santana glared at them.

So, yeah, basically people are staring and she wonders if they usually stare, but she's too caught up staring at Brittany walking by her side to notice. But then she thinks back to Finn and Puck staring, and wonders if they do that all the time. If it weren't for them staring, she probably wouldn't freak out the moment Sugar and Kurt come into view, standing outside the choir room. Her stomach drops and she instantly knows there's more to the staring than meets the eye when Sugar's eyes avert to the floor and Kurt's face contorts with sympathy as she heads towards them.

If it weren't for the way her pulse picks up, and the way she can already feel a sheen layer of sweat coating her brow, she'd probably make a snarky comment towards Kurt because she fucking _hates _when people are sympathetic. It's one of her top three annoyances in life, past Jacob Ben Israel and those weird winged ants you get during the Summer. But what makes her _not_ hiss at Hummel is that she doesn't know _why _he's being sympathetic towards her. The only reason she can possibly come up with to even _connect _emotion with her and Kurt is Brit–

_Oh, shit. _Brittany.

Lungs tightening, Santana gulps thickly as her feet slow as she approaches Sugar and Kurt. She squints, worries her bottom lip between her teeth and listens to the irregular pattern her heart is beating. The first signs of a panic attack begin to seep into her mind, but then she closes her eyes, breathes in deeply and thinks that if it were _that _bad, Brittany would have told her. Not to mention she doesn't even _know _if Kurt and Sugar's strange expressions are even to do with Brittany. It's purely an assumption.

"What's going on?" She asks, clutching her folder closer to her chest.

Sugar bites on her bottom lip and Kurt shifts the weight onto his other leg. Santana waits patiently, eyes flickering around to gage the expressions she's receiving from random people. She watches Mercedes walk past with that Asian goth, (Tina, she thinks?) and both sets of eyes flicker to the floor, feet moving faster to pass them. There's only one thing she can connect Mercedes, Tina, Kurt with and that's Glee club.

_The party._

"Where's Britt?" She continues after not receiving an answer.

Sugar ducks her chin lower, then turns slightly and peers into the choir room. Usually, the door's wide open, but right now it's shut; and it makes the suspicion grow thicker inside of Santana. She doesn't know what the hell's going on, but right now she's not liking it. Why are Kurt and Sugar being so damn cryptic and why the hell can't they just fucking answer her?

She follows Sugar's line of sight and peers into the choir room too. Inside, there's Rachel and Quinn sitting by Brittany and a wash of relief floods over her. The chairs are stacked up along the sides of the room, and they're just perched on the levels. But it's only when she narrows her eyes that she notices Brittany's shoulders shaking from where she's hunched over and concludes that she's crying.

Panic sets in and she steps forward, reaching her hand out to grab the handle when Kurt steps in front, blocking her action before it's complete. The irrational urge to shove him out the way surges down her arm but she bites it back; there's no way in hell Kurt would block her without good reason and so she'll at least hear him out.

(Knowing he wouldn't do it without good reason makes her panic more.)

"Santana," Kurt warns, low and serious. But there's an underlying tone that she thinks might be sadness. She doesn't like it.

"Hummel, move out the way," she demands when a hand pushes against her shoulder. It doesn't budge, even when she sidesteps it, and it's only then she tears her eyes away from a crying Brittany to meet his eyes. They're still fucking sympathetic and it's making her blood boil even more.

"Seriously, what?" It almost comes out as a hiss, but she knows it's obvious how scared she is by the way her tone wavers.

"Just..." he trails off and takes back his hand. Good move if he wants to keep the damn thing. "Just hear her out. Give her a chance," he breathes, shaking his head before darting his gaze away and back again to stare her straight in the eye. She grits her teeth at his pleading expression. "And remember that _everyone_ makes mistakes."

Santana pulls her forehead together, totally confused but nods anyway. "Okay..." she drawls out the word as Kurt steps aside and allows her to open the door.

Only two pairs of eyes snap up to her entrance, and she feels the need to bolt over to Brittany and console her surge around her leg muscles, as she's the only one that didn't look up. Rachel bites her bottom lip, looks to Quinn who looks back and nods as if they're silently conversing. It's still pretty strange to see them staring at each other with affection; for so long she was used to seeing the hatred between them - well, what she thought was hatred anyway - but she's kind of happy for them in a really nauseating kind of way. It's nice to have someone. She knows that now; Brittany's her someone.

She smiles, the thought harmonizing in her head before she realizes where she is and it's wiped straight off. Brittany may be her someone but at the moment she's crying and there's more important matters at hand than to think about how amazing it is to have a someone.

"Britt?" Santana calls out, throwing her folder onto the piano and moving to crouch in front of the blonde. "What's up? What's wrong, baby?"

"I think we'll leave you two alone," Quinn murmurs, patting Brittany's hand where it's clutched in her lap and moving to offer her free hand out to Rachel. "Come on, Rach."

Rachel nods, hesitating only for a second until Brittany sobs, but then nods shakily. Santana narrows her eyes, watches the two girls walk out, hands bumping together between them and then slowly turns her head back to the blonde. Her heart aches with the mere sight of Brittany being sad. She fucking hates that and makes a silent promise to herself that she'll do whatever she can to cheer the girl up.

"Britt," she says, moving to take Rachel's previous position by the blonde girl's side. "What's wrong?"

When Brittany looks up, it's the first time Santana notices the paleness to the girl's face, the lack of sparkle to her usually bright eyes and the same drooping features that stared at her the other night. It makes her heart clench in a way she didn't think was possible and it also makes her panic increase ten fold. Pulse beating loudly in her ears, she wets her quickly drying lips and reaches for the other girl's hand.

"Baby," Santana laces their fingers together on one hand, ignoring the way Brittany's fingers tighten into a death grip around her own and brings her free hand up to tuck a lock of stray blonde hair behind the girl's ear. Her eyes flicker around the girl's outfit, down to her outfit that screams '_I don't give a fuck' _and the way her hair's tied up into a messy ponytail. Brittany's not exactly fashion conscious, but she never looks like this: so tired, so worn out, so damn upset.

Santana sucks in her lower quivering lip. _Something's really wrong._

"Tell me," she whispers, shifting closer and dropping her hand to rub at the blonde's thigh.

Brittany stares at her with blood shot eyes, ones that look like they've been in that state for a while and it makes Santana think the girl hasn't been sleeping, or has been crying for what seems like days. But that's not possible... They only saw each other on Friday and have talked since then. Brittany wouldn't hide anything from her. She trusts Brittany not to lie because they have honesty in their relationship.

Right?

"Santana..."

Santana flinches slightly, suddenly hating the way her own name rolls off Brittany's tongue.

"Yeah, baby. I'm here," she reassures, feeling something creep down her spine, something that makes her want to curl away because she's knows this feeling; the feeling that something bad is coming. _Very_ bad. "You can tell me, Britt."

"I..." Brittany's lower lip quivers and her brows pull together as she swallows her words, eyes flitting down and up again. "I got really-, I was really d-drunk-" she stammers out the words and takes quick breaths as blue orbs flick between brown. "A-at the p-party. And we..." she sucks in another quivering breath. "Everything was jus-just so weird between us in the-the car..."

And it's the memory of the heavy atmosphere on Friday that sends Santana into a panting mess. She wants her chest to lift a little, _wants _the pressure pushing down to lighten a little but the way she's being stared at by glossy, broken blue eyes and it just keeps it there, keeps it there and heavy, keeps it there and so very worrying.

"Baby," she breathes out, running her thumb pad along the back of pale knuckles. "I don't care if you drink," she tries, hoping – hoping to _God – _that this is where it's going. "You've been drunk before, haven't you?" Her lips twitch as if she's going to smile, but then blue eyes flicker up and the _'it's not that' _is right there before her.

Pink lips part, and the first signs of tears begin to prick behind her own eyes at the sight. Brittany's mouth is moving, but no words are coming out. The blonde's hesitating, unsure of how to say whatever she's going to and her face apologizes even though there's nothing to apologize _for. _Not yet, anyway.

That's what Santana thinks she hates the most; what _hasn't _been said.

"Please," Brittany almost sounds like she's begging; her glossy blue eyes confirm that thought. "_Please _do-don't hate m-me."

Santana allows her eyes to roam around the other girl's face as her hands swipe over the skin of Brittany's knuckles. She gulps, hearing the words in her ear louden like a blow horn and wonders why in the hell the blonde would ever say that. She was sure she already told Brittany that there was no way in hell anything could ever change her mind about her, and to this day that's still true. Her mouth pops open to say just that, but then she catches onto the way Brittany's silently pleading with her and how the death tight grip around her hand is only increasing.

Why would Brittany say that? Is there a reason she could hate her?

The sinking feeling in her stomach rises violently as her brows twitch and face quivers. She stares at Brittany; stares and waits because Brittany would never say that unless she thought hatred was possible and her mind races with memories of this past weekend. They've been apart, which means something might have happened within that time... Something might have happened at the party and slowly, but surely, Santana's piecing this together.

She just doesn't want this to be true.

"Why-" she pauses with an audible gulp and squeezes Brittany's hand subconsciously. "Why would I hate you?"

An answer never comes, though, and Brittany just bites her bottom lip as her features quiver with sadness. Her eyes gloss until they can no more, and then tears begin to stream down her pale cheeks. Her hand moves to muffle the sobs, but Santana hears them. She hears them louder than anything before like they're amplified, and suddenly something cold drops in her stomach and her heart feels like it's jumping into her throat because if something happened... If something happened to Brittany then it would have happened at the party...

And Santana's been to enough parties to know what the outcome of alcohol and hormonal teenagers is. She knows Brittany enough to know that this conversation between them wouldn't be happening without good reason and she knows just how close all the Glee kids are and how their parties worked because Brittany fucking explained it.

She just hopes that what she's thinking isn't real.

Brittany wouldn't have...

...Would she?

"What-" she chokes out the word and blinks, trying to clear her blurring vision. "Did you..." she feels a sob grow in her chest and bites it back, swallowing it away because she can't believe this. This _can't _be true. "With someone else?"

It's not even a full question, but she just lets Brittany put it together as she's unable to complete it herself. The last part is whispered quickly, as if they're trading secrets. Really, though, it's only said like that because Santana hopes that her heart doesn't hear the question. Not with the response that fits Brittany's current state.

Because Brittany glances up slowly, and doesn't even need to confirm it with words because sobs racket through her body and blue eyes overload with tears, and that's enough of an answer. Santana feels her heart crumble inside of her and fights the tears pricking at her lids, shaking her head because this can't be happening.

This isn't true. It _must _be a dream.

Brittany _can't_ have slept with someone else.

Brittany _can't _have done it.

She just _can't._

Her head continues to shake, quicker and quicker as her mind goes into overload with thoughts of Brittany kissing someone else, of Brittany fucking _touching _someone else and her mind just can't take it. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to push the thoughts away because this isn't happening. It's just _not. _There's no way she can really be here right now, telling her these things. There's just no fucking way.

But when she opens her eyes and sees Brittany crying in front of her, when she feels her heart thump off rhythm inside her chest, she knows it is happening. That this _is _real.

Brittany cheated on her... Brittany had _sex _with someone else.

"Santana, I-" Brittany lurches forward as Santana stands on weak knees and begins to stagger backwards, her feet losing their stability beneath her. "_Please," _the blonde begs through a strangled groan.

"No," Santana growls out, ripping her hand away from Brittany's grasp. Her mouth hangs half open as she stares wide-eyed at the other, and she can feel the pain claw at the inside of her throat and wind around her lungs. Her mind swarms and swims with images that she just doesn't want to fucking see, but somehow, at the same time, it's still not quite able to comprehend what's just been said.

Her heart sure as hell does, though.

Throat growing thicker with the seconds that tick by - each one seeming longer and longer as they go on - she tries to remember how to breathe. She stumbles mid-walk and throws out her palms to brace the weight of her body as the base of her back collides with something hard – the piano, maybe – but all other ability to keep her body functioning just seems to drain out of her. Along with everything happy, too.

Brittany _cheated_ on her.

This _can't _be happening.

"Santana-" Brittany's voice breaks as she falls to her knees, palms dropping helplessly to the floor and eyes pleading. "_Please."_

Santana clenches her jaws, swallowing the sobs that punch at her lungs and shakes her head. Blue eyes gloss over completely and then Brittany bows her head, the tears falling freely onto the linoleum floor as Santana just watches. She feels physically sick. The thought that someone has laid their hands on Brittany, has touched Brittany the way _she _touches her, she just can't handle it. Her eyes close at the dull throb of a broken heart beating against her chest.

"You ha-have to listen-"

"No," Santana bites out again, swallowing against the sheer agony surging through her. She can't listen to Brittany explain. Even if Kurt told her to... She _can't_. Especially because everyone seemed to fucking know before her. That makes the pain intensify.

"Please!" Brittany exclaims, hands trembling where they're hanging in the air. "San, yo-you mean s-so much-"

Santana doesn't let herself hear the end of the sentence because she shuts her eyes. The room starts to spin and Santana can't get a hold of herself. It's like she's falling in a dream and doesn't know how to wake up. The jolt that usually breaks her out of it just isn't coming and so she's just falling and tumbling with no awareness for where she lands. _If _she even lands. Darkness surrounds her but she can still see the ragged pattern of her breathing and broken thump-thud of her heart, each beat sounding more and more dysfunctional as they go on.

Her eyes snap open and her mind screams at her. The heat behind her lids transform into a stinging and suddenly it's like she can't see. She shakes her head, attempting to bring her vision back to normal but it's like she can't. The girl in front of her seems to look an awful lot like Brittany, with the same golden hair and sapphire eyes... But it's not her.

The Brittany, Santana knew, wouldn't be causing her this much pain.

The Brittany she knew, wouldn't have even thought about another person, let alone _slept _with someone else.

The Brittany she knew wouldn't of hurt her this damn much.

But maybe... it's just that she never really knew Brittany at all.

_Don't show emotion, _her mind tells her. _Stay strong. _She pulls her limp body up, propping herself with shaky arms until her feet find stability on the floor. Legs feeling like jelly, she stumbles and stands up slowly, straightening her back and clenching her fists until her fingernails cut into the smooth skin of her palm. A light layer of sweat covers her forehead, and she can't quite remember how to function properly.

Weakness and pain pulse through her veins, clawing at her mind as it flashes back to all the times she and Brittany shared; all the lazy kisses, the lingering touches and embraces that were never quite tight enough. Her stomach swirls until the nausea becomes too much and the words _not enough _and _she cheated _ring through her mind, heavy like the aftermath of a bell. As the seconds tick by painfully slowly, she can feel her heart's mismatched rhythm and how her mind is already taking its instant reaction, turning her feelings cold and stone-like.

"_Please," _Brittany begs, even though it sounds more like _don't go. _

Santana flinches against the way the single word settles in her gut and curls her fists by her side.

"_No_," she repeats through a hiss and doesn't hesitate another second before she's sprinting towards the door and swinging it open, ignoring the way Kurt and Sugar sprawl backwards and land in a small heap on the floor. Her leg muscles burn and she looks around frantically, whipping her head from side to side as she tries to remember which way the parking lot is, but her mind can't quite process anything because it's blurred with the intense ache inside of her.

So, with no destination in mind, she just turns and runs. Runs as fast as she can whilst holding back the tears until she's far enough away that she can't hear her name being called. That's when it all comes down of her like a ton of bricks and all the tears flow freely as it dawns on her.

She's just lost everything.


	20. Part Twenty

**Title: **Waiting On The World To Change [Part Twenty]  
**Rating: **NC-17  
**Word Count: **9.4k  
**Author's Note: **I know, I know! I've been shitty. And I am really sorry but my social/personal life has taken over this Summer and so I've had other priorities. Not to mention I'm also working on finishing _If It Hurts This Much _and so hopefully when I finish that, there will be quicker updates for this! But anyway, here you go and thank you for your comments on the last chapter! Keep it up please!

* * *

Santana doesn't go to school for the next few days.

Her mom doesn't question it; mostly because she stays up in her room and tells her she's not hungry whenever she's called down for dinner. The January exams are coming up soon too, and so in the daytime when her mother tells her to go out with some friends or go and visit Brittany – which Santana winced at but furiously blinked back the tears that came with that name – she says that heavy revision is needed and neither option is possible at the moment.

Her mom did get a bit suspicious at first, and asked a few questions as to why they weren't possible, but she just said that the seniors had mandatory study days and had to stay home for a few days a week. Her mom glared, but then nodded and headed downstairs with the laundry basket hitched at her hip.

Santana breathes out a sigh of relief whenever her mom closes the door, because that means she's in her own place once more and can let the pain take full hold of her body instead of trying her utmost hardest to conceal it. She doesn't cry anymore, but not because she doesn't want to, but because she can't.

After she arrived home two days ago, on the Monday, she fell face first onto her bed and spent the following few hours sobbing her heart out, listening to her ragged breathing and allowing the agony and images of someone else touching Brittany tear through her. Those few hours were filled with broken whimpers, heavy sobs, free flowing pain and a soaked pillow, and those hours left a memory that she now can't even think about without curling into a fetal position as the anguish rips her apart.

But now it's Wednesday afternoon, and she's sitting on her bed, absently flicking through the TV channels whilst her mind is elsewhere and her heart is still aching. Apart from her little brother and her mom, she's had no social interaction. Her phone is somewhere underneath the bed, out of charge, and she just knows there's many missed calls and texts but she can't bring herself to even find her damn phone charger. That would require effort and inside she just doesn't feel anything. She feels no need or want to do anything. She feels no happiness or even any sadness. She just feels numb and dark, like all the light has been sucked out of her life.

And she's not entirely sure if she's okay with that or not. Feeling nothing can be good for a while, because it's her body's defense mechanism against the pain, but she just knows at some point the feeling will return and she really fucking dreads that day. She's finding herself really fucking dreading a lot of things, actually.

So now she just sits in her room, staring blankly at everything and showing absolutely no emotion or reaction to anything. It's almost surprising how quickly she's gone from feeling every second of pain she was enduring to feeling nothing; and she kind of feels like she's in a freaking novel because this shouldn't happen to her, and she'd rather her life wasn't like that. Not all tales have a happy ending and right now, she feels absolutely no hope for the future. She's hopeless and fighting the urge to run away from this stupid fucking town every waking second because she doesn't even know where she'd go. There's nowhere for her and so instead she's just stuck here, wallowing in this dark, dark pit that is now her life and hoping that one fucking day, things might get better.

* * *

It's a little after four when she hears the doorbell ring, and it takes about twenty seconds for her to remember that her mom's out picking Fernando up from school so she has to answer the door. She's pretty sure her mom said something about a delivery, and no doubt she'll get an ear bashing if she doesn't answer it.

So reluctantly, she summons a small spark of energy and rolls out of bed, tugging on the waistband of her sweatpants further up her hips and pulling on the hem of her top. Her hair's a mess, balled on top of her head, her thick black rimmed glasses are perched on the bridge of her nose and she has no make up on; she didn't see the point because she wasn't seeing anyone apart from her parents and brother. Plus, the puffy and bloodshot eyes kind of took the focus away from noticing the lack of make up – her mom should be thanked for pointing that out – so whatever. She doesn't even care anyway.

Stumbling down the stairs, she wipes a hand over her face and winces when her bare feet meet the cold hardwood floor. She swings open the door, and instantly the urge to roll her eyes burns through her but she bites it back, knowing Quinn wouldn't be here to taunt her, even after everything they've been through. Quinn's a bitch, but she's not _that _much of a bitch and despite popular opinion, somewhere inside she has a sensitive side.

Quinn eyes her up and down, brows pulling together further and further the longer she stares at Santana. The shock that was there a second ago is suddenly replaced with sheer concern and worry and Santana clenches her jaw because the urge to slam the door shut is almost too much. She knows how she looks, because she knows how she fucking feels and no doubt her appearance will be reflecting her emotions and she really doesn't need Quinn telling her any of that. There are mirrors in her damn house so she fucking knows how shit she looks, but she just doesn't give a damn.

"What do you want?" She grumbles, her voice sounding thick, raspy and foreign to her own ears as she leans against the door frame.

Quinn doesn't respond though, and so Santana just widens her eyes expectantly at the blonde girl and then rolls them; if Quinn's just going to stand there and not say anything, then Santana's not hanging around. Turning around, she drops her hand from the door and heads back towards the living room, slumping onto the sofa when she reaches it and face planting the pillows.

"You haven't been at school."

It's not a question, it's a statement and Santana produces a grunt that shows her acknowledgment of it. But Quinn remains silent and so she rolls over, hands falling onto her stomach and fingers threading as she glares at the blonde girl.

"What?"

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "You haven't been at school."

The first spark of anger sizzles through Santana and she sits up, legs falling over the edge of the couch. "Well done," she says, sarcastically. "Would you like a cookie or a medal for that winning observation?"

But Quinn ignores her. "People are starting to talk, you know."

"Do I look like I give a fuck?"

Hazel eyes roll as Quinn steps further into the room and crosses her arms, a judgmental expression etched across her features. Santana feels the irrational urge to slap that look straight off her face run down her arm and fizzle out at her fingertips. "Okay, Lopez, don't take your shit out on me."

Santana sighs heavily and leans back against the sofa, hands coming up to rub at her face. She hasn't worn her glasses in such a long time she's forgetting they're on her face and keeps knocking them about. But it's either that or no vision and so glasses it is.

"What are you even doing here, Quinn?" She breathes out, her voice weary and tired. She just wants to be left alone.

Quinn eyes her, making sure not to turn on the sympathy. "People are worried about you."

"Who are these _people _exactly?"

"Me, Sugar, Mr Martinez and Br–"

"Shut up," she spits, not wanting to her that name as her eyes flash towards the blonde girl in a glare. She can't handle hearing that name right now; it makes her chest ache and the dull throb thump unevenly and she just can't do it. She just_ can't._

"Santana," Quinn says flatly, and it really irks her because Quinn has _no _right to tell her that Brittany's worried about her. _Fuck. _It's not even Brittany's fucking place to even be worried about her in the first place and she certainly doesn't need fucking Quinn to come and fucking tell her that because she doesn't _want_ to know. It just makes everything hurt more.

"Just go home, Quinn," she says, eyes closing and hands falling to the cushions beside her thighs. "Please. I don't wanna hear it so just go."

Quinn doesn't say anything for a long while, just stands and Santana feels hazel eyes burn onto her profile as she remains still. There's nothing inside of her that wants to have a conversation with Quinn, or a conversation with anyone for that matter. It's just like all her feelings just dropped out from within her and even if she scrambled to find them she couldn't. She just isn't feeling anything and so Quinn being here isn't helping. She can't contribute to anything the blonde says and so she'll just be sitting there listening, and God knows that will test her patience. After spending years with Quinn, Santana knows just how she can be. She knows that she can be pushy, aggressive – even without meaning to – and can certainly be insensitive.

In some ways, Quinn's like Sugar in that aspect, except her filter is optional. Sugar just doesn't have one, but Quinn switches hers on and off when appropriate, and Santana knows that this is going to be one of those times where her switch is off. Filtering the truth will be out the window because Quinn's here for a reason, and when that happens, she cuts the crap and gets straight down to it.

But Santana really doesn't need that right now. It gets under her skin and makes her blood boil because Quinn knows just how to get to her and shred her down to her rawest, most vulnerable form, and that sucks.

"You know," Quinn starts and Santana feels the sofa dip beside her. "It must suck that the girl you set up to mess up, messed you up instead."

Santana winces, jaw clamping shut and clenching until she tastes a metallic tang on her tongue. She stays quiet, and for a second she considers just getting up and walking out of her own house because there's a reason Quinn's here and it's not for idle chit chatter, nor is it for a casual check up. Beating around the bush isn't something Quinn does, because usually she just cuts straight through the shit and gets down to it and sometimes, that's good. But in times like this - when Santana doesn't even want to talk - it's not so great. Especially because now Quinn's here she won't leave without saying what she came here to say.

"Get to the point, Fabray." Santana picks at the loose threading of the sofa and breathes out heavily. She has no will to argue and just wants to get this over and done with.

"There is no point."

Santana raises a brow, head lifting until she can glare at the blonde girl. They've been friends long enough that she knows when Quinn's bullshitting, and this is one of those moments. She just doesn't know why she's bullshitting and that's what's keeping her from kicking her out. "There's _always _a point with you, Q. So get to it and leave me alone."

Quinn leans and settles back into the sofa, leg crossing over the other. "Not this time," she continues "Just came to see how you were doing."

"Q, if you keep up with this bullshit then don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out."

"Santana," Quinn breathes and sits forward, forearms pressing into the skin below the pleats of her Cheerios skirt. "Just talk to me. Come on."

Anger bubbles inside of her and she feels it rise in her throat. "Quinn..." she warns, grinding her teeth to relieve some of the fury building inside her chest. "Just leave it."

"Just talk to me, Santana. I'm not asking for a lot here and I'm worried about you."

"Leave it," she hisses, lowly. She's not sure whether Quinn's trying to piss her off or whether she's just doing it subconsciously, but either way it's working, and she's having a pretty hard time not giving into the irrational urge to let some of that anger out and slap the crap out of Quinn.

"I'm right here, Santana. Just talk to me," Quinn demands, and Santana stands abruptly, arms crossing over her chest as she heads towards the front window and peers out of it, desperately trying to push back the urge to punch the cheerleader. "I know you're upset about Brittany and you should just talk to me because I know what you're going throu–"

Santana snaps as soon as she hears Brittany's name, and in one swift movement, she's towering over Quinn and grasping the lapels of her Cheerios jacket in her hands. She tugs roughly until the blonde is on her feet and then they're glaring at each other, noses pressed together and Quinn's hands clutching Santana's shaking wrists.

She didn't even mean to be physically aggressive, but she just couldn't listen to the blonde talk about Brittany like it was nothing. The last thing she wants to do is talk about Brittany because she doesn't know whether that will be the straw to break the camel's back. She doesn't know whether talking about Brittany will burst through this nothingness she's feeling and at the moment she can't feel a damn thing; not happiness joy, not sadness or pain – and for now, that's okay.

For now, she can handle that, because she's pretty sure the only reason she's even like that is because after the tears stopped flowing on Monday night, her mind and body came to an agreement and sent her emotions into a comatose state. The sharp ache inside of her just got too much. It was too overwhelming and so her emotions went into hibernation, and are only willing to come back when the she's further down the healing process; when her heart beats properly again, and when she can breathe easy once more.

(She doesn't know when or if that day will ever come.)

"Shut the fuck up, Fabray," she hisses, cheeks flushing in anger. "You don't have a fucking clue what I'm going through and you can't even begin to even fucking _imagine, _so shut the fuck up." Fury pulses through her veins and she feels Quinn's body tense as she shifts and readjusts her grip, knuckles digging into the blonde girl's collarbones. "If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be in this situation. I wouldn't have sunk to your fucking level and taken that damn bet, and I wouldn't be here," her grip releases and voice lowers.

"You can't say a fucking thing about _my _life and what I've done because you're too chicken shit and you've got your head too far up your own ass to even _show _Berry that you're into her," she pulls Quinn's body tighter against her own, their faces so close together and foreheads bumping roughly. The blonde girl's eyes stay locked with her own though, only slight fear flashing behind them and Santana hates the way Quinn isn't even trying to fight her tightening grasp. "The closest you've fucking got to her was in the damn choir room–" she winces at the memory of the confession and the choir room "–So get off your high horse, get over yourself and stop trying to live _my _fucking life and live your own."

Quinn stumbles backwards when Santana releases her with a light shove and Santana automatically sinks down to the sofa, hands falling to cradle her face. Tears begin to fill her eyes and she sucks in a deep, shaky breath, willing herself not to give in to this intense pressure weighing down on her chest. Willing herself not to just buckle underneath this pressuring ache that makes her feel like she's in one of those terrifying nightmares you can never seem to wake up from.

She runs her fingers through her hair, nails raking along her scalp before she drops her arms to hang limply over her thighs. Glancing up to Quinn, her vision blurred by the watery gloss covering her eyes, she can't quite believe that the blonde girl's still standing there and decidedly _not _slapping Santana for her irrational behavior.

Instead, there's a look of sympathy and even though there's still that part of her that hates it, it's almost a soothing relief. The pain within her is too much to handle on her own, and whether she wants to admit or not, she needs someone right now. Preferably – and ironically – the person who's causing it, but her heart just won't be able to take the weight of that strain and so Quinn will have to do. For the first time, she's actually grateful for having the blonde cheerleader in her life.

"I told her," Quinn announces, swallowing and rubbing her forehead.

Santana's face falls, and eyebrows raise in surprise. "What?" She croaks out, throat thickening.

"I told her, Santana," the blonde continues, pride flashing across her eyes. "I told Rachel I wanted to be with her two hours ago and we're going out tonight for our first date," she steps closer to Santana, anger evident in her face, but there's a softness to her eyes that almost makes Santana want to smile. "I told her because I want her. I want to be with her and I care for her enough to give up everything."

Swallowing thickly, Santana nods and her eyes close slowly as she tilts her head down, vision shifting to the floor in shame. Anger still pulses through her veins though, and she can't help but curl her fingers into a fist against her kneecaps. So far, it seems Quinn's only fucking here to make a dig at her; to get one up on her just like she's always fucking tried to because this time, _Quinn_ got the girl and Santana didn't. _Quinn's _going to be the happy one, parading around with her girlfriend on her arm and a Cheshire grin on her face all because she did something Santana couldn't. All because she did something Santana _wouldn't._

The news should make her feel happy for Quinn. It should make her stand, hug the blonde and congratulate her for the bravery; but it does nothing of the sort. Instead, it makes her blood boil and teeth grit. Why is Quinn even here? Is she trying to rub it in Santana's face and finally, _finally _win something?

"You couldn't tell Brittany what she meant to you," Quinn continues and Santana feels her fingernails bits into the skin of her palm. "You couldn't tell her because you were too much of a goddamn _wimp, _ didn't care enough for her, and you cared too much for yourself," the blonde says, standing in front of Santana and crossing her arms like she's one up on Santana. Holding back the burning sensation to let some of this pain go and kick the crap out of Quinn, Santana flares her nostrils but stays still, listening intently.

"You didn't give a crap and so she went and found someone who _could," _Quinn leans down until their faces are inches away from each other and Santana's upper lip curls in a defensive, animalistic mechanism.

"You couldn't give or tell her anything because you were too goddamn scared, Santana. So could you really blame her?" The blonde whispers the last part and then smirks, her brow cocking and lip mimicking it.

And Santana loses it.

She shoots up from the couch, hands instantly snapping to Quinn's shoulders and shoving with as much force as she can muster until there's a a blonde cheerleader sprawled across her living room floor, clutching her forehead and wincing as hazel eyes gloss over with unshed tears. Santana's fists bump at the top of her thigh and if she wasn't crying beforehand, the depth in which her nails are digging into her palm would probably be doing it. Her palms become moist, and it's only when she's been staring down at her friend for a good thirty seconds – her chest moving rapidly and metaphorical steam blowing out her ears – that she realizes just what she's done and all the fight sinks out of her.

Quinn's not retaliating, or shouting back. Instead, she's shaking her head and slowly climbing to her feet with disappointment etched across her face, hand wiping away the small trickle of blood that flows down from her hairline.

"I do care," Santana spits, voice breaking slightly. "I do care about Brittany, Quinn. Don't _ever _question that," she winces and feels pain claw at her throat as she speaks. "There was nothing I wouldn't do for that girl, and she–she fucking _broke m–me,_" she spits, the tears flowing over her lips and into her mouth.

Her legs begin shaking, and it's only a matter of seconds before they buckle beneath her weight and she sinks to the floor on her knees, her ass resting on her ankles and entire body slumps forward until she's a pathetic slouching mess. Her vision wavers and blurs, but she just doesn't have to energy to wipe away what will only be replaced in a few seconds, and so she just lets her emotions run free. She lets them go and allows the sobs racketing at her chest to take over her whole body.

"Santana..." Quinn says, her voice dipping as she crouches down in front of Santana and takes her trembling hands.

"No," she yanks her hands back and roughly wipes at her cheeks, the tears smudging across her skin. "Don't give me this sensitive crap, Quinn," she grits out, trying to hang onto the last embers of anger burning in the pit of her stomach. "Don't give me that because I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

Quinn's eyebrows shoot up and eyes grow wide with surprise.

"I wouldn't fucking _be _here," Santana thrusts her hand towards the floor. "I wouldn't be like _this,_" she punches her chest. "If it wasn't for _you–you!_"

A small scoff comes from the blonde. "What?! Are you–" she glances around as if she's looking to someone to say _is this for real? _"Are you actually _serious, _Santana?" She runs her quaking fingers through her hair and tugs at the bottom. "You _can't _fucking blame this on _me," _she drops her hand to her chest and points there when she says '_me'_. "This thing is to do with you and Brittany, not _me_. You need to talk this out with her because if you continue like this, then you're going to push _everyone _away and then you'll be fucked," the blonde girl steps closer and it scares Santana how terrifyingly psychotic she looks right now. "So either talk to her and sort this damn thing out, or fucking _get over it."_

It hurts. It hurts more than Santana thought it would because if there was any possibility, any fucking chance, that she could just _'get over it' _or go and talk to the one person that makes her the happiest and saddest she could ever feel, she fucking would. But she can't and Quinn's words are just a damn reminder of the emptiness she feels since Brittany's been gone.

And those thoughts lead her here: to the moment where Santana Lopez – the once great head cheerleader who didn't give a fuck about anything or anyone – breaks down in front of another person.

It's a monumental moment really, because no-one has _ever _seen her break down like this. They've never seen the moment where it all gets too much and she just crumbles, and shatters like she's made of glass onto the floor. They've never seen her just give up on everything, and they've never seen the tears of intense anguish slide down her cheeks until her vision is too blurred to see anything but shapes.

But Quinn does. Quinn sees it and Santana's almost ashamed that someone could have had this affect on her so much that she can't even get a hold of her emotions.

"Oh, Santana," she thinks she hears sympathy when it's said, but the thumping in her ears makes her question it. A body wraps itself around hers, and then she knows she did hear it because _fuck, _Quinn fucking Fabray is fucking comforting her as she sobs and whimpers and the worst part about it is she just instantly melts into it, holding her arms around the ones wrapped around her and continues to cry.

And Quinn doesn't say anything more, and for that, Santana is thankful.

* * *

It could be a few minutes or it could be a few hours when the tears stop coming. She thought she was all cried out; she thought all the tears had vanished and she thought her body just couldn't produce anymore, but she was wrong. Now, she thinks though, all the tears have gone because it's just not physically possible for her body to produce any; she's just too tired emotionally and physically and can even feel the sleep clawing at her brain.

Quinn's still behind her, luckily, so when she's halfway to drifting got sleep, her friend lifts her with strength gained by years of vigorous Cheerios routines and practice and moves her to the sofa before brushing her hair away from her face and pressing a platonic kiss to her forehead.

"I'll be here at 7:15 to pick you up," the blonde girl whispers, and Santana responds by shifting onto her side to face the back of the couch. She doesn't want tomorrow to come and maybe if she turns her back on the words, it won't. "Get some sleep and I'll see you tomorrow."

The last thing she hears before the darkness pulls her under is a small prayer Quinn sends to the heavens, pleading for tomorrow to be a better day.

* * *

Since she cried out every last ounce of energy left within in her last night in Quinn's arms, Santana didn't actually wake up at all during her sleep and didn't manage to drag herself up to bed. Which means when someone hammers on the front door at 6:45, she jolts and falls straight off the sofa; knocking her elbow on the coffee table on her descent to the floor.

Clutching at her throbbing arm, she clambers to her feet and stumbles her way to the front door, quickly whipping it open with an aggressive scowl etched on her face to scare off whoever is on the other side.

"That scowl won't scare me off, Lopez. I've seen you cry," Quinn quips, looking way too good for this time in the morning.

Santana's face falters and she gulps, remembering last night and how she felt. It's not as intense now, even though the pain is still pretty heavy on her chest, but dear God last night it was. "You said 7:15," she grunts out, ignoring her thoughts and and leaving the door open as she retreats back into her house and throws herself back down on the sofa. Quinn follows and stands behind her. "It's 6:45."

"And I knew you wouldn't have set an alarm so get your ass up and go upstairs to get ready. You're going to school today."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

Santana throws her unharmed arm over her face, nose instantly burying into the crook of her elbow. She doesn't respond, instead makes a low sound that resembles a grunt as if she even cares. If she doesn't go to school, she won't. Quinn's not going to make her.

"Come on, Santana," Quinn's voice goes soft in the way that Santana hates. "This isn't good for you, staying indoors all the time. You gotta get out of here for a bit, and, y'know, Mr Martinez wants to see you today," Santana peers over the back of the sofa to look at her friend, curiously. "He told me to tell you," Quinn continues with a shrug.

It's the news that Mr Martinez wants to see her that gets her ass off the couch. Because whilst yeah, she's in this deep funk and feels like she could just cry every second of the day, this _is _her senior year and no doubt she's going to get an ear bashing for not handing in the shared assignment she was given. The last thing she wants – even past going into school and seeing the one person that makes her legs shake and heart ache – is to not graduate, to have to repeat this year and stay in this fucking dead end town, all the while going to all the places that remind her of Brittany.

At least if she graduates and gets out of here, Brittany will only follow her in her heart and memories, and not in the places she sees.

"Fine. But I'm driving," she growls and heads upstairs, knowing this is the best thing to do.

* * *

It's when she's upstairs and about to pull her sweatshirt over her head that it sinks in; she's going to see _her_, today. Her eyes snap to the mirror and take in the sight before them, face twisting and quivering the longer she looks at herself.

She's a mess.

And she's seeing Brittany today.

The thought makes her heart clench and it just doesn't feel right to be doing this. She's not ready for this. She's not ready to see _her _again because she just doesn't have the strength to. Her legs buckle and before she knows it she's hugging her sweatshirt closer to her chest as she hyperventilates into the fabric. She inhales deeply, and regrets it almost instantly as she yanks the sweatshirt away from her face and looks at it, the pain ten-folding inside of her because it's _that _sweatshirt; the one she lent Brittany and now her mind is swarming with Brittany's scent and _fuck, _the pain slices through her and settles low in her gut.

Tearless whimpers echo through the room and it's like there's not enough air in the room to satisfy her lungs because her throat is tight and heart is thumping loudly in her ears. She wants to throw the damn sweatshirt across the room, or out the window, but she gets as far as sitting up and reeling her arm back before knowing that's something she just can't do. She just can't throw something away that reminds her of Brittany away like that. It's been too long that she's had _anything_ of Brittany's and even though having her scent all around her is like a new gash on her heart, it's just too welcoming and she just needs it too damn much.

So she sinks back down onto the bed, bringing the sweatshirt under her nose once more and lets the pain flow through her freely as she breathes in Brittany's scent.

* * *

The bed dipping beside her leg is the next thing she feels, and a sob wracks out from deep within her chest when she inhales and feels a fresh wave of agony wash over her from the fabric clutched tightly in her hand. Her eyes crack open the tiniest bit, and she looks to Quinn desperately, hoping her friend has come up with something to take this pain away but nope, the blonde is staring back at her with a sympathetic, clueless expression.

"I... I can't..."

Quinn stares down at her with an understanding she didn't think she could possess, and then nods. "Tomorrow," her friend says. "We can leave it till tomorrow."

Santana clamps her jaw shut tight, wanting to cry for a whole other reason now and closes her eyes shut as she falls back to the bed once more. The heaviness of exhaustion weighs down on her mind and it's almost surprising how easy sleep comes to her when the last thing she remembers before sleep pulls her under are bright blue eyes.

* * *

It's strange to be walking down these halls again. Everything's different, but at the same time, everything's the same.

Everyone used to walk by Santana with feared expressions, or, in a few cases, angered ones, but now they're just staring at her with pursed lips and soft eyes like they're apologizing to her.

It should be funny, and she's sure it would be if she wasn't in this deep pit of despair, but she just sort of assumed that when she walked these corridors again, whispers of _did you hear what happened? _and _karma's a bitch _would echo between the students. She thought people would be laughing and saying that she deserved what was coming to her, but that's not even close to what's happening. It's nowhere near it and if she didn't hate sympathy before, she definitely does now.

For the entire day, she just keeps her head down and closes her eyes, willing everything just to go away.

* * *

The first time she sees Brittany, she's in the cafeteria.

It's lunch, and she's managed to make it through the first few periods and the travelling in between without seeing the blonde. But it was going to come soon enough and now she's standing with her tray in hand, knowing she's not going to pick up anything else except a diet Pepsi at the end of the line and hearing that simultaneous gasp flow to her ears from the students around her.

She's curious, and so she turns around to see what's going on when she realizes exactly _what's _going on. Brittany's standing a meter away, chewing her lip and looking like she hasn't slept in a few days and she's staring straight at Santana, preparing to say something whilst thumbing the hem of her shirt. Her eyes are a little dull, and her skin's pale, and Santana hates the way guilt settles low in her gut.

She glances around like she's praying for someone to intervene, and eyes the few observers nearby before swallowing against a thickening throat. Brittany's standing there, pleading with her to have a conversation, or to at least meet her intense gaze, but it isn't something Santana can do. She knew it was something that was going to happen sooner rather than later, but she still can't do it.

Her heart hurts as she glances at Brittany again, and the heat pricks against her eyelids. She wants to be angry. She wants to yell and scream at Brittany but that's just another thing she finds herself incapable of doing. It just hurts too much and as she tightens her grip on the tray in hand, and finds another few sets of eyes flickering their way, she closes her eyes and thinks of what to do.

Before she even knows it, she's throwing down her tray onto the nearest table and walking away from Brittany without a word.

* * *

The second time she sees Brittany, she's in gym class.

Sugar's by her side, wearing Cheerio issued shorts and a matching top and Santana's got on a pair of gray sweatpants and a baggy shirt. It's Sugar's spare clothing, because she forgot to pack hers, and it's a little long on top but it doesn't matter. It was either this or going naked and she's had enough embarrassment in the past week for her entire life.

"Oh crap..." Santana hears Sugar say, and immediately looks up from where she's stretching and follows her friends line of sight.

Brittany's there, in cut off sweatpants and a black tank top and it worms its way around Santana's heart because even though her face portrays utter devastation, she still somehow manages to be the most beautiful thing in the room.

Glancing towards Sugar, Santana pleads with her for an excuse to get out of class but her friend just opens her mouth and gives a small shrug, her face lost as to what to do. It's not her fault though. Sugar's never been good in these types of situations and so Santana just stands and sucks in her bottom lip, willing herself not to cry in front of the entire gym class. She blinks away the tears threatening to form, and glances around, hopeless as to what to do before landing on the figure walking towards her.

"Santana..."

The way Brittany says her name makes her skin crawl and tingle all at the same time. She clenches her jaw, a metallic tang flowing onto her tongue as she catches her cheek but she's so caught up in not knowing what to do that she doesn't feel the pain. The physical pain is nothing in comparison to the emotional and so she just ignores it.

She turns away almost immediately, her legs already leading her halfway out class when she hears it.

"Please..." Brittany begs and Santana hates the way she sounds so small. It slices straight through her and it's just not fucking fair. "Can you-Can we just... _Please_ ta-talk to me."

Judging by the complete silence in the gym, everyone's now entirely focused on this conversation and Santana thinks that her heart may be beating so loud that they can hear it. Palms sweating, she drops her head and clenches her fists by her side, ignoring the emptiness she feels inside of her because _God, _she's missed Brittany's voice. And whereas she wants to say _yes, _they _can _talk, her heart is telling her to just give it a break and walk away.

So she just shakes her head down at the floor, knowing Brittany's seen it because of the hitch in her breathing, and walks away.

* * *

The third time Santana sees Brittany, it's not all that happens.

She's walking down the hallway, Sugar by her side, grasping her elbow and leading her towards her class because she's refusing to look up at the faces that know too much. It's hard knowing that everyone knows about your personal life, but to know your biggest vulnerabilities is a whole other story. Santana's no longer known as the biggest bitch to walk these hallways, she's the one that fell for a choir geek and got her heart broken.

She's pathetic.

Everyone's staring at her as Sugar steers her round the corner, and then a simultaneous gasp is heard and suddenly it feels like the entire school has gone quiet. It's stupid, because Santana's sure if she actually looked around, there'd be a good few people pointedly _not _looking in her direction purely out of respect, but it sure as hell feels like all eyes are on her and that's what she hates the most. She doesn't even need to look up to know _why _this reaction has happened, because she can already feel Brittany's presence on her skin; sharp like she's just run through a thorn bush.

Sugar shifts beside her, unsure of what to do and Santana feels something curdle inside of her. It's thick, and resenting and full of pain and she knows that if she speaks, it'll just burst out through her chest and she's not sure what _it _is yet. But judging by her mood, she's sure whatever _it _is isn't good.

"Do you wanna walk away?" The girl next to her whispers, leaning down so only she can hear. But it's so quiet she's sure everyone else – including Brittany – hears too.

Santana shakes her head and bites her bottom lip to stop it from quivering. Sugar eyes her curiously for a second, probably choosing between grabbing her and not giving her a choice in the matter as she pulls her away from the waiting crowd, or do as Santana requests and just leave her be. But the choice is made and Sugar accepts her request, knowing best, and shuffles back a little to let Santana and Brittany have their stand off.

Although as Santana feels the girl move away, and the vulnerability creep down her spine because she's _alone, _she realizes she can't do this. There's so many sets of eyes on her that she would need a few more hands to count them, and she wonders if this is what stage fright feels like because suddenly it's all too daunting, too terrifying, too painful. And before her mind can even direct her legs, her body's made the decision and she bolts.

Remarkably enough, Santana makes it halfway down the corridor before Brittany catches up and speaks. A quick tug on her elbow and she's spun around, eyes wide and heart clenching as hurt brown eyes meet equally hurt blue ones.

"Santana..." Brittany says, her tone unsteady and shaking with nerves. "Please... Just–Just talk to me. _Ple-ase."_

Santana sinks her teeth into her lower lip again, the _thing _curdling inside of her and growing with every second. The hand on her forearm is hot and heavy, and she can feel Brittany's skin everywhere on her body from all the places she's _ever _touched. It makes her senses sting and eyes water, and she quickly shakes her head, still not trusting her words, and yanks her hand away from the other girl's grasp.

"I-I..." She stutters but the words fail when hope flashes across blue eyes.

"_Please,_" the blonde begs, stepping forward and making Santana step back, almost into a group of students.

Santana sucks in her cheeks, hoping she won't cry as she tries to find a voice that isn't brewed from the _thing_ inside of her. "I don't," she swallows and realizes just how damn hard this is going to be. "What do you want me to say?"

It comes out stronger than she expected, and the fear inside of her dulls a bit as she adds a shrug into the mix. She doesn't know what to say to Brittany. For days there's been nothing and right now she's just trying _not _to think about how damn relieving it is to have Brittany within reaching distance, and so words aren't exactly on the forefront of her brain.

"I want you to say that you forgive me," Brittany looks smaller than ever as she speaks, and she shuffles forward a bit to minimize the gap between them.

But Santana can't take it. Sure, she's can't fight it that it feels good to have Brittany near her, but she can't have her in her personal space. That's just too close to comfort, and it'll no doubt screw with her mind and make her give into whatever Brittany wants of her.

"I can't," she gulps, shaking her head against the tears stinging at her eyes. "I can't, Britt."

Brittany winces and makes the bold move of grabbing Santana's hands, holding on tightly and not letting go when Santana tries to jerk away from her. "You can," she tries. "_Please_. You ha-have to."

"No. I just–I _can't._"

It's worrying, because the more she talks and the more Brittany begs her, the more she finds herself letting go of the will to hold back on the _thing _growing inside of her. And it's only growing more, making her chest ache and burn with the need to lash out.

"You can, Santana–_please," _Brittany tugs on her hand to hold her attention and Santana hates the way the girl can tell she's losing it. It's not like she's getting bored of this conversation because she's not, it's just that she's trying _oh so _desperately to focus on _not _letting this feeling in her gut out, that she's not one hundred percent focused on what the blonde girl is saying. "You said sex wasn't dating and I... You said _do whatever you want, _a-and I know you didn't mean liter–"

Santana snaps as soon as the words leave Brittany's mouth, and the restraint that she was so eagerly hanging onto is gone_. _The hurt and pain she felt in the last few days just disappears along with it, and she can't hold back as something inside of her chest explodes and anger flares across her entire body. She doesn't even know how it's changed around so quickly. But the only thing she does know is that she's ripping her hands out of Brittany's grasp and snarling as the words pour out.

"Oh, so it's my fucking fault you couldn't keep your legs shut is it, Britt?"

Brittany flinches and looks down to the floor, turning her feet inwards and biting on her lip. It settles low in Santana's stomach because she knows the girl's about to cry. "No..." she says, voice small. "I didn't know–"

"Know what?" Santana gets out through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring and eyes burning. "Didn't know I trusted you? That I let you in? Huh?" She tries and balls her fists. "You didn't know any of that so you just went off and _fucked _the first thing you laid eyes on?"

No response follows, and later Santana will regret the way she just lashed out at the blonde. Later, she'll lie on her bed and push against her face with her fists because really, there's no need to be as harsh as she is. Even though she's hurting, there's no need for this embarrassment she's causing for herself and Brittany as she lets go and allows the beast inside to get at the blonde.

It's just not fair. And later, she'll know that.

But right now, she doesn't.

"Santana, I really don't think you should–"

Santana whips her head around to the source of the voice, eyes narrowing into a glare. "Shut the fuck up, Sugar. This has _nothing _to do with you."

It seems that nothing can get a hold of her and she's not even entirely sure she's conscious as she yells and lashes out. Students around her are staring, wide eyed and feared and if she had any sense she'd shut her mouth and just walk away. She'd just give up right now before she pisses everyone off, but she doesn't.

Instead, she turns back again to face Brittany with a half-smirk and half-snarl, and the truth pours out. "It doesn't matter anyway, Britt. It was only a fucking bet."

And that's when she's realizes she's just broken Brittany's heart.

It's silent for a long moment after the announcement, and Santana realizes the only thing she can hear is her heavy breathing and the sheer quietness of everyone else. Not because of the adrenaline pulsing through her veins, or the remnants of the pain she felt burning inside her chest, but because no-one knows what to say or do.

Which, actually, is pretty stupid because they should know about Santana Lopez. Santana Lopez, the girl who's screwed half the Cheerios and managed to bed the girls that _no-one _else could. They should know that she's a bitch, that she hurts people because she can and that she'll use her popularity and reputation in any way possible.

But still, they react to her like she was once an angel and has suddenly gone to the flip side.

Out the corner of her eye, she watches as Quinn and Rachel hurry around the corner, hands clutched between them and worried expressions on their face. It seems as if word spreads quickly because there's no surprise or shock on their face; they know what's going on and judging by the wide hazel eyes, Quinn's debating where or not to jump in and put a stop to this, even if it's already in the process of happening and nothing can stop it.

Brittany glances up, tears threatening to spill from her eyes and face unreadable. "What?" She asks breathlessly, like she can't quite believe it herself.

And right about now would be a good time for Santana to stop talking. To just let it go, shake her head and walk away. The damage has already been done. She knows Brittany heard her and yet that _thing _is still inside of her, saying that this is _nothing _in comparison to what Brittany did to her, that Brittany deserves the pain she feels if Santana repeats it and so she does just that.

"It was for a bet," she announces, clearer this time as she lifts her chin and smirks, arms crossing over her chest.

There's a wave of gasps that echoes from one end of the hallway to the other, and Santana almost screeches at everyone just to fuck off because this has _nothing _to do with them and they're only watching because they can't _not. _It's like a car crash; it's just too devastating to look away.

"A bet?" Brittany repeats, her voice a little stronger but the pain still very evident in her features.

"Yep," Santana replies, hating herself more and more as the seconds tick by."Quinn and I made a bet that I couldn't bang you like I've done with all the other girls," she doesn't mean to, but the thing inside of her grabs a hold of every piece of her body and manipulates her and forces her to smile just to sweeten the pain. "That's the only reason I talked to you in the first place."

Everything in that moment happens so quickly Santana tries to reach out and grab it to stop it, just so she can figure out how to correct it. But she can't, and it just unravels in front of her.

To her left, Sugar narrows her eyes in disappointment and shakes her head at her, realizing just who Santana truly is. To her right, Rachel glances to Quinn with wide, shocked eyes and scrunches her face up like she can't quite believe Quinn would ever do a thing like that. Quinn's mouth drops open, and Santana sees hazel eyes flash to her with a _why would you say that?_ before a hand comes across Quinn's cheek and Rachel storms off.

And then, finally, in front of Santana, Brittany just crumbles and breaks.

The tears begin to flow freely down Brittany's face and broken sobs escape her lips. The girl's crying in the middle of the damn hallway, surrounded by people and later Santana will hate herself for making that happen because what she feels for Brittany is still so damn real, and she knows what she's just done has completely screwed up everything, forever.

And yet when Brittany bares her teeth, face betraying all the anger she shows and says, "Screw you," Santana can't help but smirk and lift her chin a little higher before replying, "Done and dusted, Britt Britt," because that just adds to everything she's done.

With that, Brittany whimpers and sobs loudly before Rachel appears out of nowhere, grabs her by the arm, scowls, shakes her head and glares at Santana all at the same time, and pulls the crying blonde away and out of sight.

* * *

It's like the thing that took a hold of her had blurred her vision, because when Brittany's gone, Santana sees everything clearly and realizes what she's done and drops her head in shame. She can't really understand why she did it. _God, _she knew she was a bitch but _fuck. _Did she really do that? Did she really just openly humiliate Brittany, just because there was a slight possibility it _might _make her feel a tiny bit better?

Yeah, she did. And now there's nothing she can do to take anything she said back. _God. _She's such a bastard.

Sugar comes to a stop beside her, and she clenches her jaw as shame washes through her. She doesn't need to look up to know that she's a bitch. Trust her, she knows she is already.

"And how do you feel now?" Sugar asks, lowly, her voice angered and disappointed. "Do you feel any better now you've hurt her back? Does it feel good to know your work is done? Does it, Santana?"

Santana doesn't answer; instead, she sucks in her bottom lip and closes her eyes as a resounding _no _loops around in her mind..

"You're pathetic, Santana," Sugar hisses and shakes her head. "And you don't even care about anyone else but yourself, do you?"

When Santana doesn't reply again, Sugar clicks her tongue, shakes her head again in disgrace and follows the direction in which Brittany disappeared without looking back. Santana just bows her head as guilt settles heavily in her chest and lets the people around her stare, knowing this embarrassment is the least she deserves.

She just wishes she could turn back time.

* * *

**Once again, I apologize for the wait and that this chapter isn't as long, but I hope you've enjoyed it! Please take a few seconds to write a comment and it will be greatly appreciated!**


	21. Part Twenty One A

**Title: **Waiting On The World To Change [Part Twenty One A]  
**Rating: **NC-17  
**Word Count: **6.7k  
**Author's Note:** I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry, but here you go! Part B will be out as soon as it's ready but if you pressure me or my beta it's not going to happen. We both have other priorities. But on a cheerier note, this is dedicated to my beta for reasons! :)

* * *

Time goes by.

Even though each second that passes is slower and more painful than the one before, the clock just keeps on ticking and eventually, the days just go by in a blur.

And Santana doesn't really know how to feel about that.

She doesn't really know how to feel about anything anymore.

There's still that gut wrenching guilt inside of her, that tugs harder and harder every time she walks down the hallways of McKinley High and is hit with the memory of what she did, of what happened and how she broke Brittany's heart. And _fuck, _she's hurting too, she knows that, but it seems no-one else does.

Or no-one else cares about her.

Yeah, that's the reason.

But it's the least she deserves, all this suffering. God only knows if it weren't for her making that stupid bet, she wouldn't be in this position. She wouldn't be sobbing herself to sleep, clutching at her pillow and whimpering against the fabric as the good memories flash across her eyelids. She wouldn't be wishing that she'd never given into Quinn's antics, and hoping that time really _does _heal all wounds because if not, she'll be living a half life.

She wouldn't be here and Brittany would still be smiling angelically, completely oblivious to everything poisonous in the world. And by poisonous, Santana means everything she's ever touched.

There's just that hope that maybe one day things will get better.

* * *

She can't help but think if she'd just taken her damn phone with her, instead of leaving it at home on the weekend, things might have turned out different. Things might not be the way they are now and she could have Brittany in her arms, smiling and laughing as she slowly threads their fingers together.

She can't help but think that if one tiny, little thing had been different, her situation _now _could be different.

That's one of the worst things: wondering what _could_have happened.

But the past can't be changed, and now Santana has to live with it forever.

* * *

With every day that passes, it becomes more and more obvious how much she misses Brittany.

First of all it's in her posture; how her shoulders slump further and further, and her body deflates just that little more.

Second of all it's her mind; how it takes that split second longer to react or answer to a question thrown her way by the teacher, or how she wonders that _if _things had been different, would Brittany be beside her, laughing and kissing her on the cheek as she whispered _"you're such a dork" _in her ear.

Then third, it's her heart. It's the way her heart clenches whenever a blonde girl walks past, or how her stomach sinks when she realizes it's not _her _blonde. Or how when she thinks that it wasn't _her _blonde, that _her _blonde isn't even hers.

It's the little things that make her realize how much she misses Brittany, and the first time she walks by Brittany in the hallway, she almost breaks down right then and there. The moment is so fleeting, so damn quick that Santana wishes she could reach out and hold it, just to treasure it for one second longer. It's the first contact she's had with Brittany in weeks, and instead of feeling the steps of her body, her mind and then her heart missing Brittany, it all happens at once and it's so overwhelming that the rush of it is almost welcoming.

Brittany's eyes flicker towards her, and it's only for a second that their eyes lock, but Santana finds it a little easier to breathe, a little easier to move and a little easier to live. Because, if only for a moment, there's just that little more color in Santana's world, and it's just that little bit brighter.

But then Brittany's gone and Santana's left standing in the hallway, staring off into the distance and wishing that the stupid fucking space in her heart wasn't there anymore. She's just left there, watching the only good thing in her life walk away for the second time and the rush sinks out of her body and everything turns grey again.

* * *

The weekend comes quickly and, for that, Santana is grateful.

Even if she's just lying on the sofa, mindlessly flicking through the TV channels with her cheek pressed against the cushion and a tiny bit of drool seeping out the corner of her mouth, she's still grateful for the weekend. It means two whole days and three whole nights of weeping and being able to wallow in her own deep pit of self-pity, where she can let her emotions run free and crack open that bottle of tears she's been hiding during school hours.

But apparently her mom doesn't have the same idea for her.

"You need to get up," her mother says, her tone more demanding than suggestive.

Santana doesn't take her eyes off the TV, and wiggles her legs until one dangles off the side of the sofa. "I'm fine," she replies flatly.

(It's the only way she can reply, nowadays.)

"Get up, Santana," her mother continues and leans down to swipe at her legs, knocking them off the cushions and making Santana's body twist awkwardly so half of it remains on the sofa, and half doesn't. "You need to."

"No," the words come out muffled against the sofa cushion. "No, I don't. Please..." her voice cracks and she winces at the way it reminds her of Brittany said that word. "Just let me lie here."

"Santana..."

"Ma, I'm fine. Just leave me alone."

Her mother doesn't give in though, and instead takes a seat where Santana's legs where only minutes ago, soothing her hand up and down Santana's back as Santana curls up into the fetal position on two of the three cushions.

"What's got into you, mija?" She asks, tentatively. "You've been like this for nearly a week. What's wrong?"

Santana doesn't answer. Not 'cause she can't, but because she won't. She's too afraid that '_I managed to break Brittany's heart' _or '_I'm a complete bitch, that's what's up' _will pour out her mouth, along with the foul, promiscuous truth that is her past. And she thinks that even _that _tale would make her own damn mom click her tongue and shake her head at the games she once thought were a good idea to play.

Even she's ashamed of what she's done.

"Nothing," she gets out, swallowing thickly and dropping her hand - and the remote - to the floor. "I'm fine."

Out the corner of her eye she watches her mom's mouth pop open, probably ready to come back with some smart ass comment and for some reason, it really pisses Santana off. All these possibilities run through her mind and suddenly she's angry. It hits her like a whip and she twists her body, throws her legs off the couch and stands up before turning to her mother who's staring at her wide eyed and curious.

"Just fucking stop, Mom. Seriously," Santana hisses and balls her hands into fists by her thighs. "I said I'm fucking fine so would you just leave me the hell alone and go back to whatever the fuck you do with your spare time?"

Her mom's eyes darken, and Santana almost thinks that there's no point in trying to apologize 'cause her ass is going to be out the house by tonight. But then she sees that something in her mom's eyes. That something that makes her own stomach sink because she's seen it before; in Kindergarten when she thought it was a good idea to dance around Mrs Matthew's classroom and throw toilet paper everywhere, in third grade when she pushed Noah Puckerman face first into some dirt because he called her a _weirdo with boy parts_, or even in tenth grade when her mom told her to try her hardest at her piano but Santana didn't think she was going to pass, so she put zero effort in and didn't even _try_.

_Disappointment._

It's that same damn look and when her eyes recognize the signs that her mom's feeling the same way right at this instant, her shoulders slump and body deflates, almost like a little child's would do when their parent scolded them.

"You know, Santana," her mother says, voice thick with her Spanish accent. "You were a lot nicer when Brittany was around," she pauses and takes in a deep breath and Santana just squeezes her eyes shut against the way the words settle low in her gut. "She made you a better person."

It slices straight through her heart, the wound ragged and rough, and Santana doesn't make eye contact with her mom as she slumps back down onto the sofa, all the fight draining out of her. There's no need to respond. There's not even any point in giving her mom the satisfaction of breathing out a sighed _I know _because her mom's already staring down at her with lips pinched up at the side, her eyes just screaming _but you already know that, _and Santana can't disagree.

So, because she's tired of this constant nagging, Santana twists her head and body away from her mom and shifts further back into the sofa. "Just leave me alone, Ma."

And her mother does, but not before shaking her head and letting Santana see the way the disappointment in her expression ten folds.

Santana waits until her mom is out of earshot to let the tears flow freely.

* * *

Santana gets all the way to the front door before it registers exactly where she is. The one thing she doesn't know, though, is what led her here. Or actually, why in the hell on the drive over she wasn't consciously aware of where the car was taking her.

But it doesn't really seem to matter, because now she's here; the large door staring down at her and the number glaring too. The blueness of the paint makes her heart clench, but it's _so _blue that it reminds her of a particular set of eyes. But she pushes the thoughts away and steps back, taking in her scenery and kick starting her brain into action. There's no way she can stay here.

What if someone's already seen her though?

_Fuck._

Swiftly turning on her heels, Santana makes a beeline for her car, clamping her fingers around the set of keys in her hand and ignoring the way the metal digs into her palm. She can feel heat spread across her skin, sweat building upon the nape of her neck as the car gets closer and closer and she prays to the heavens that her presence hasn't been noticed.

God's never been on her side though, so when someone calls her name from behind her, she slows to a stop, tips her head back, stares at the sky and internally curses the Big Man. Really, though, it shouldn't be surprising, because God's never been on her side, and she's not sure why now that'd suddenly change. Hell, it's not like she goes to church every Sunday, but she _does _go on the occasions that freaking matter, and she knows her Hail Mary off by heart, as well as the Lord's Prayer, so she thought that that _might _help her just a little bit, but apparently not.

**"**Santana?"

Santana breathes in deeply, feet turning awkwardly until she's facing faded blue eyes and dull golden hair. "Um... hi."

Susan stands in the doorway, head tilted and eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

Santana's jaw drops open to reply, but then she finds a lack of connection between words and her mouth and clamps it shut again, eyes darting around the Pierce's front yard. The truth is, she doesn't actually have a clue why she's here. The last conscious decision she made was to switch the TV channel to NBC to check on the Olympics, but from there on out her mind's pretty much running blank.

Licking her lips, she takes one final glance around the yard before taking a sheepish step forward, hands ringing together in front of her. "Is Brit-Brittany in... Plea-please?"

**"**I don't think you should be here, Santana."

That brings her eyes back up to Susan's, and Santana's heart pounds loudly against her chest as she watches the older woman step out onto the stoop, lifting her chin and crossing her arms across her chest. Santana gulps, knowing a glare that says _you're not wanted _when she sees one and instinctively takes a step back, toes curling inside of her shoes in hesitation.

**"**Susan, I-I jus–"

**"**That's _Mrs Pierce _to you," Susan cuts in, her brow shifting into an arch and jaw clenching slightly, and Santana's entire body stiffens.

She feels the ties – the ones that bind her and Brittany together – snap inside of her, one by painful one. It took a while, she remembers, to gain Susan's approval. It took more than a while, actually, and she endured several long conversations with the woman because she just _knew _that Brittany was something different. The reasons they started off may have been slightly similar to the relationships before, but that was about it when it came to Brittany. She was just different, and Santana drops her head as the pain slices through her at the memory of that point.

**"**_Mom! Who is it?"_

That voice never fails to make Santana's heart jump, and she immediately reels her head back and stares at the gap in the doorway leading into the Pierce household to find the source. It's like someone injected her with a shot of adrenaline because her heart picks up and her feet shift forward, the impulse to be closer to Brittany surging through her like electricity.

But Susan catches it before it happens, and reaches back for the door handle to pull it to a close as she shouts, "No-one, honey. Can you just stir the gravy?" in reply.

It's like someone just back handed her with a tennis racquet because her entire face falls, body darting back and the sudden energy inside her is replaced by the familiar ache of pain. Susan doesn't want her to see Brittany. Susan doesn't _want _her to go anywhere near Brittany, and her chin drops towards her chest, focusing on the way her Chucks skid across the pavement as she realizes that what Susan wants to happen, most probably will.

Susan's already grabbing at her forearm and forcing her further away from the house before she even realizes, and it would hurt if she wasn't expecting it.

**"**You need to leave, Santana."

**"**Mrs Pierce..." Santana winces at how vulnerable her voice sounds and swallows against it; hoping it'll fade. "Please... I just-I just need to explain–" she sucks in her lips and her eyes roam up to the top right hand window, hoping Brittany will just look out at her and come down, but she doesn't. "_Please_–**"**

**"**No," Susan gets out, releasing her grip and shoving lightly until Santana has to reach out to brace herself on the car. Surely that's like manhandling or something, and Susan's probably not supposed to be doing it, but Santana wasn't _supposed _to fall for Brittany and look how that turned out.

**"**You need to leave," the older woman starts again, anger still in her tone. "You need to leave Brittany alone and never come back here."

Santana glares up at Susan, frustration bleeding through her. She's fucking _trying _here. She's trying and Susan's not even giving her a goddamn chance. "I know you hate me," she hisses, lowly. "I know you do but _please, _would you just–"

Except Susan stays true to what she believes and shakes her head defiantly, eyes hardening more and more with every second they're locked onto Santana. The corner of her mouth twitches and Santana can see the snarl forming there, and she's torn between standing her ground – because that's what she's always done – and just giving up and walking away. Had she done the first option the first time, she wouldn't be here and she'd be none the wiser about Brittany Pierce; the only girl to ever break Santana doesn't-feel-anything-for-anyone Lopez.

But then she wouldn't have experienced what it was like to have Brittany, even if it was for a few fleeting moments. She wouldn't have known what it was like to wake up to Brittany in her bed, flush against her chest and breathing soundly into her pillow. She wouldn't have known what it was like to press her nose to Brittany's shoulder and inhale the smell of her skin and her love. She wouldn't have known what it was like to ride on the sweetest high possible and to know no better reason to be alive.

She wouldn't have known what it was like to _feel _something.

And for the first time since she stepped foot out the car, she realizes why she's here.

**"**I just need to see her, Mrs Pierce," Santana speaks slowly and drops her shoulders, eyes softening as they gaze into faded blue orbs. "Please," she begs through a whisper. "Please just let me explain."

And then the heavy atmosphere around them disappears. Susan drops her hands to her side and steps beside Santana, mimicking her position by leaning on the car. She reaches up to rub at her face, her eyes entirely focused on the house in front of them and a heavy sigh escaping her lips when Brittany's shadow dances across the front window's curtain.

Santana's legs just burn to run inside to see Brittany.

**"**I don't hate you, Santana," Susan explains, voice softer than Santana's ever heard it. It shocks Santana so much she has to twist her head to inspect the older woman's face for any trace of a lie, but there's nothing. "I don't hate you," the woman repeats, turning to meet Santana's gaze. "I'm disappointed in you."

And that disappointment is worse than anger, Santana thinks, because anger fades with time. The raw, burning emotion slowly seeps out your body and memory, eventually. It becomes a meaningless ash of it's former self and with time, you'll look back and wonder why you felt such rage.

But disappointment sticks with a person.

Someone letting you down is a feeling that no-one – absolutely _no-one – _will ever forget. It's something that will always pulse through you; knowing that at one time you expected more from a person and they just couldn't live up to it. Really, it's an inevitable reality of life, and that should lighten the blow a little, but it doesn't because she's never been in this position before. Sure, she's let people down in the past, it would be ridiculous to say she hadn't, but it's never felt like this before. It's never felt so heart-clenching, so painful. She's never cared that she's let anyone down before now and she thinks it's because they both have something in common that means so much to them; something blonde haired, blue eyed and wonderful in every thinkable way.

**"**I thought you were better than a stupid bet," the older woman sighs and Santana feels the guilt pang at her chest, the strings thrumming loudly against her ribcage until she almost has to double over at the weight of it. "I told you how much I love Brittany, and I warned you way before you two began whatever you teenagers do these days. And you gave me a speech, do you remember?"

Santana nods meekly, her mind rushing back to that day.

_And I don't want to hurt her. I have no intention to, either._

The words explode through her mind like they're blaring through a boombox positioned right next to her ear, and she winces, shifting on the spot and bowing her head to the floor in shame. She's such a fucking idiot. Why didn't she keep her fucking word?

**"**You even recited my husband's quote about second chances, Santana, and it may sound stupid, but for that I actually believed you. I believed you wouldn't hurt Brittany and wouldn't disappoint me."

Santana swallows thickly, eyebrows pulling together in the middle of her forehead; it feels like she should say something. It feels like she should try and defend herself but it comes to her attention she wouldn't know what to say. How could she ever even _think _about defending herself? What she did was terrible and if she could, she really would go back and change everything. She knows she has to get a grip on things and accept that but there's that little part of her, the gaping wound in her broken heart, that's telling her what Brittany did was worse, so why should she have to defend herself?

She shakes her head at her thoughts and wills the heat away from her eyes. She won't cry, not in front of Susan.

**"**I've had to stay at home for the past two weeks because Brittany's been almost inconsolable," Susan's voice is getting harder as she speaks and when Santana glances up, it seems as if the woman is taller than ever. She's always been tall, but with her shoulders squared and her blue eyes hard the way they are, she seems more so than ever. It's intimidating to say the least. "The children at the hospital have wanted me and Madison keeps asking why you don't come around anymore and I don't know what to say to any of them; to Brittany, to Madison, to the children."

Santana sucks in a deep breath and clenches her jaw, heart thumping loudly and irregularly against her chest. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Brittany was supposed to answer the door and Santana was supposed to let the words just spill from her mouth. She was supposed to explain and try, but now that she's here with Susan in front of her, judging her but pretending not to, Santana realizes that was never going to happen. Things will never be the same again and she's really fucking naïve to think that that was even a possibility. Fuck.

Maybe it's just time to give up.

(That thought rips her heart from her chest.)

**"**So no, Santana, I don't hate you," the older woman continues and steps back over the threshold into her house, hand coming up to grip at the door. This conversation is nearly over, Santana can tell. "But I think it'd be for the best if you never return and never talked to my daughter ever again. You'll only do more damage than you already have and I don't want that for Brittany. Is that clear?"

The words hit Santana in the stomach like a punch and she chokes out a strangled gasp, clutching at her t-shirt with a balled fist to try and control the pain. Her face contorts with anguish and the tears are just too heavy to fight, so she can't help it when a lone one trickles down her cheek and curves around her jaw. The left side of her chest hammers, but falters as nothing pulses in response and Santana feels empty, like everything, bad and good, was sucked out of her and now she's just the frame of a person that used to exist.

She's never going to talk to Brittany again. Ever.

But she can't live like that, in a world where Brittany isn't beside her. She already lived through that for seventeen years and she's not sure she can do that again.

**"**Mrs Pier–"

**"**I _said_is that clear, Santana?" Susan hisses, raising an eyebrow and staring down at Santana.

And Santana can do nothing but submit to the tone. Never would she give in to someone that easily but she just doesn't have the strength to fight anymore. Susan's right after all; Santana will only do more damage if she tries with Brittany again.

So she nods once, strongly, and turns away, leaving her heart behind her.

* * *

Weeks go by in a blur. People say time flies when you're having fun but that's not right. The saying should go _time flies when you're numb. _It's a paradox really, because the times feels like nothing when Santana's lying in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, but when she's thinking about it and counting the time go by on the clock, the seconds seem to drag forever.

But it's not like it matters. Because it doesn't change the fact it's been four weeks; four weeks since she's heard Brittany's voice or even seen her smile. It's taken a lot of skill and time to maneuver around school without seeing Brittany, mostly because it means having to take the back ways or to skip through the fields, but she's doing the one thing Susan asked of her. Considering she's ignored everything else she promised to Brittany and Susan, this is the one thing she'll keep to: avoiding Brittany and in turn, making sure she doesn't hurt her anymore.

It's for the best.

(The best for Brittany, anyway. For Santana? Not so much.)

It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt more than she could ever imagine, though.

* * *

It's a Tuesday when her mom goes out and leaves Santana a note that makes her heart jump into her throat.

_Madison's coming over for Fernando. Look after them and there's money behind the picture on the mantelpiece for a pizza. Be good, mija – Mama_

The only reason it has that effect on her is because usually when Madison came over, Brittany was the one to bring her. The door would open and Santana would smile idiotically at the two blondes, bending down to hug the youngest of the two before pulling back and pulling Brittany into her body, their foreheads resting together as they greeted each other with their eyes. If Madison and Fernando had run into the playroom already, Santana would quickly peek over her shoulder and then rock onto her feet to press a kiss to Brittany's lips, moaning lightly at how Brittany would cup at her cheek, then slide past her ear and weave her long, slender fingers through dark locks to deepen the kiss. If not, she'd just peck her on the lips and they'd all go into the living room.

But that was then, and this is now. That won't happen ever again.

Santana chokes at the thought.

The doorbell rings, and Santana barely has a hold of herself as she heads towards the door and open it. A muscular man, around 6'2 is standing there with bright green eyes, a strong jaw and chocolate brown hair. Santana's entire body freezes and she stares at the man, wondering if her postman swapped with a colleague and this guy here's to drop off a parcel or something. But then she remembers it's six in the evening and she's pretty sure postmen don't deliver after like, three.

**"**Santana!" A little voice calls and Santana's vision snaps down to find Madison standing there. Her heart jumps into her throat and she looks up at the man again. Who is this?

**"**Hi, Maddie," she says, reaching over and patting the girl's head affectionately. She receives a toothy grin in return.

**"**Sorry, hi," the man says, and his voice is strong and smooth. Santana instantly narrows his eyes as panic surges through her. This guy can't be any older than 24 and he's dropping Maddie off. Did the Pierces get a male nanny? "Is this the Lopez household?"

Santana runs her tongue along her teeth and looks the guy up and down, trying to figure out whether the churning jealousy inside of her is for a good reason. Fernando bounds in behind her, bumping into her calves and she has to grip at the door frame to make sure she doesn't buckle. She doesn't, luckily, and as she returns to her glaring, she finds Fernando and Maddie embracing tightly, holding each other like they haven't seen each other in years. In reality, it's only been a few weeks, but she knows what it feels like when those weeks feels like years.

**"**Yeah," she manages to get out. "It is."

The guy smiles, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. He offers out his hand. "I'm Henry. Nice to meet you."

Santana doesn't take the hand, just crosses her arms over her chest and glares. Seriously, who the hell is this guy?

**"**And you are?"

**"**You're at _my _house and you're asking who _I _am?" She bites back, the jealousy bubbling aggressively inside of her. Henry's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline but a smile still stays on his face.

**"**I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you."

Santana scoffs and her upper lip curls into a small snarl. She doesn't know why she's acting so irrational towards this man but she doesn't really care. She doesn't know who this man is and he's standing at her front door with Madison by his side, smiling with a stupidly charming grin and looking like he just burst out of some _Abercrombie & Fitch_catalog. The only thing she does know is that clearly Madison's comfortable with him and he's _way _too young for Susan, not to mention Susan's married, and a guy like this always seems to end up with a girl like Brittany.

But Brittany wouldn't. She wouldn't _yet. _It's too soon, right?

**"**Well, it's been lovely meeting you, Miss Lopez," the guy continues and Santana realizes she's just been standing there _glaring _at this random man. "But I'm afraid I have to get to Brittany's dance recital."

That makes all her thoughts seem not so irrational anymore and the snarl drops straight off her face, replaced with a blank expression that is somehow pained too. She clenches her jaw, biting back the sourness in her cheeks from the unwanted memories washing over her mind, and steps aside to let Fernando and Maddie through, who dart into the house and disappear into the playroom.

* * *

Fernando and Madison are playing and laughing in the den, and Santana feels her legs lead her there before she can even make the conscious decision to go. Something about being closer to Brittany, she thinks. Maddie may not be her sister, but it brings some warmth to Santana's cold heart to think that she's related to her.

She leans against the door frame when her eyes find them, and her temple follows shortly after. Fernando and Maddie are playing a game, _Operation, _she notices when she peers a little closer, and realizes it's _The Simpsons _edition. Homer is lying in the place where the normal guy is supposed to, and for the first time in weeks, her lips twitch and _almost _form a smile.

It's like her heart senses the ounce of happiness before it can feel it and whips it away quickly, replacing her with a punch in the gut and a large dose of pain. Her eyes close against the ache.

**"**I used to play this with my big sister," Fernando announces proudly and unpacks the game, tucking the lid underneath the plastic game to elevate it. "I used to think the buzzing sound was an alien."

Maddie giggles. "You're silly."

Fernando glances up at her with this ridiculously sappy grin. "I know," he smiles and Santana winces at how fucking happy he looks. She kind of hates him a little for that.

**"**Come on then, silly, let's play," Maddie sing-songs and shuffles forward, her side pressing into Fernando's.

**"**Okay..." Fernando picks up the tweezers and hands them to the young girl, clasping his small hand around hers. "But remember, don't touch the sides otherwise the aliens will come."

Maddie's eyes widen and she looks genuinely scared. "But what if I hit them, Fern?" She asks, panicked. "Will they eat me?"

**"**I don't know..." Fernando seems serious and pulls his dark eyebrows together. "I've never hit the sides 'cause they might come. But Tana always said they'd get me when I'm sleeping," he ducks his head and suddenly glances around. "But they could be in the room too," he whispers and Maddie's eyebrows raise, her body pressing further into Fernando's.

**"**Will you protect me though, Ferny?" She says and looks towards Santana's brother with wide blue eyes and an innocence that Santana wishes she had.

The way Fernando's eyes flicker to her, and how they sparkle brighter than Santana's ever seen, makes her heart hurt. She feels tears come to her eyes and thinks how crazy it is that two children can be so in love at such a young age. Even if they don't know it yet, they will soon.

**"**I'll always protect you, Maddie," he replies, grinning from ear to ear.

And then Maddie leans over, pressing her lips to his cheek and Santana hears the blood rush to his face. At the same time though, she hears and feels all the blood rush _out _of her face. Her shoulders slump and her mouth drops open, ready for the tears that are threatening to pour.

Fernando and Maddie are so young. They don't know anything about the world and they're _so _naïve, but Santana _envies _them. She envies the fact that they don't know what it's like to fall in love and have their heart broken. She envies that they haven't lived long enough to know that what they're both undeniably feeling now will tear them apart at some point. She hates that they've developed something more than friends because she knows how utterly heart-wrenching it is to know that you and your person, the one that makes your heart jump and stomach flip, just aren't meant to be.

But they're happy. They're happy and Santana doesn't want to take that away from them. Life will do that later on, and so the best and only thing she can do right now is just watch, and let them be happy; let them adore each other and let them grow together.

In the playroom, it's Fernando's turn. Madison is still by his side, grappling onto his arm and pressing her face into his shoulder to hide herself from the horrifying game of _Operation, _and then Fernando does something that Santana can't help but smile at. Her brother waits until Maddie turns away, and squeezes her eyes shut against the fabric of his t-shirt before he slips, forcefully pressing down on the metal with the tweezers and setting off the high pitched buzzing sound. Santana tilts her head to the side, unsure of why her brother just did that.

Maddie shrieks, and all but jumps into his lap, throwing her arms around his neck and sobbing weakly. "No, I don't want you to go, Ferny!" She cries, clinging to the collar of his shirt. "Please, I don't want you to get eaten by monsters."

**"**If they eat me then they can't eat you," Fernando replies simply and drops the tweezers to hug the little girl back. "And that means you've won."

Santana takes that cue to leave, so twists on the balls of her feet and lifts her leg to move forward, but not before Maddie can pull away and scrunch up her nose. It sends a thousand memories of Brittany doing the _exact same _expression through her face and for her heart to clench painfully tight. It winds around her lungs, closing in on her throat and tugging at her heartstrings until the first few hot tears begin to trail down her cheek.

Hastily, she wipes them away with the back of her hand and sucks in a deep, shaky breath, before turning and walking away.

* * *

She's halfway to her desk before she realizes what she's doing. Her hand is hovering mid-air, pointed in the direction of that ticket, lying face down on the table and she has absolutely no idea why she thought coming to this would be a good idea. Last time it only ended badly and, considering she's already weeping, it probably won't end well again.

Still, that doesn't deter her, and she reaches for the ticket, gingerly fingering the sharp edges until she closes her eyes, inhales deeply and flips it over. Santana's name is on the top, next to her row and seat number and it makes her feel all shaky. No doubt Brittany would've seated her with her family and Santana suddenly feels the weight of Mrs Pierce's words weigh down on her.

_But I think it'd be for the best if you never return and never talked to my daughter ever again._

She knows what that means, and even though she made a promise that she'd never hurt Brittany again, which simultaneously means never seeing her again, there's this need inside of her to defy it. She'd be breaking everything Mrs Pierce asked of her, and it would run the risk of bringing herself more pain, but if she's going to give up, and come to peace with the fact she'll never be whole again, she has to see Brittany one last time.

She _has_to go to this dance recital because she remembers the sheer excitement that lit up Brittany's face when she handed her the invite. Brittany may not feel that excitement now but Santana promised she'd go. She promised and even though every other one she made was broken, this is something she can keep.

Grabbing the ticket and then her jacket, Santana picks up her phone and dials a number.

**"**Santana?"

**"**Quinn," she breathes, hoping the line won't run dead. "I need your help."

* * *

**Part B will be out as soon as it's ready. Hope you've enjoyed the first half :)**


	22. Part Twenty One B

**Title: **Waiting On The World To Change [Part Twenty One B]  
**Rating: **NC-17  
**Word Count: **4.7k  
**Author's Note:** I'm sorry for the space in updates but shit happens and life gets in the way! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Santana... I don't know..." Quinn says, following Santana around the house with a disapproving expression.

Santana clamps her jaw together and turns, tapping her foot impatiently against the floor. "I've got to see her, Q. I can't just–I need to go tonight. Can you just look after Fern and Maddie while I go? Please?"

Her friend stares at her with a concerned gaze, and she just hopes that she won't say anything. If there's one thing she doesn't need right now it's Quinn to tell her how bad this idea is. Fuck, don't get it wrong, it is a terrible idea... But for some reason it makes sense in her mind right now.

It makes sense to go to this dance recital because it's like she's proving something. Proving that she doesn't care what others think and... _Shit. _She doesn't really know what it's proving. It just _is._

Quinn stays silent, but nods reluctantly and tails Santana as she spins around and grabs her jacket that's folded over the back of the sofa, searching for the ticket in the right hand pocket for the seventh time since Quinn got here. It's there – it's been there the other six times before, too – and she stops patting down her pockets, and makes her way towards the front door, trying to breath properly.

A hand sets on her shoulder as she steps over the threshold. "Don't fuck it up, this time?" She hears and sucks in her lips, smiling weakly.

"I'll try not to," she says and reaches back inside the house to collect her car keys off the side table by the door, because driving a car without keys is pretty damn hard to do.

She climbs in her car and waves Quinn goodbye before driving off towards Lima Grand Hall.

* * *

"_Quinn," she breathes, hoping the line wouldn't run dead. "I need your help."_

_It was a risky choice, to call Quinn and ask a favor of her, because Santana was the one that not only managed to fuck up her and Brittany's relationship, but somehow managed to fuck up Quinn and Rachel's too. She didn't mean to; it was just a slip of the tongue, but Rachel had heard it, slapped Quinn and stormed off, and now Quinn was equally as mopey as Santana was._

_What a pair they were._

"_What do you want?" Quinn growled and Santana winced._

"_Look, I know I really can't ask you–"_

"_No, Santana, I'm not doing anything for you. Fuck you."_

_Santana pressed her balled fist against her thigh, hard. "Just please, Quinn," her voice broke and she sucked in a shaky breath. "I can't take back what I did. If I could I would, but I can't. All I can do is tell you how fucking sorry I am. I wish I hadn't–I just shouldn't have said–"_

"_No, you shouldn't have." Quinn's voice was hard and monotonous and Santana knew this was going to be tough. "Because of you Rachel fucking hates me. Because of you," she heard her friend's voice break a little. Was Quinn... crying? "Because of you I lost h-her... I lost Rachel..."_

_Santana sucked in her lips and felt her own heart ache for Quinn. She'd been so wrapped up in herself she'd never taken a second to consider the effects of that day on other people. Sugar still hadn't talked to her, and Rachel had just glared and scowled whenever they passed each other, but Santana hadn't really cared about it until then._

_She somehow managed to hurt everyone._

_Maybe she would be doing the world a favor if she just went away to somewhere secluded and never came back; everyone would be safe then._

"_Quinn..." Santana's throat thickened and guilt flooded through her. "I know I fucked up-up," the tears began to form and she wiped them away before they could fall. "I know I did but I'm trying, Quinn. _Fuck._" She banged her fist against the desk and let her forehead fall shortly after. "But I need to do this."_

_Quinn sniffled down the line. "Do what?"_

"_I need to make up for eve-everything I've done," she sucked in a shaky breath and closed her eyes, fingers tightening around the phone. "Starting with Brittany."_

_There was silence for long moments. All that could be heard was Santana breathing heavily and whimpering lightly, and Quinn sniffling down the end, her breath slightly angered but equally as heavy as Santana's. Clinging onto any form of hope, Santana dropped down to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest, wishing and hoping with everything she had that Quinn wouldn't hang up on her._

_But after the long silence, Quinn let out a long exhale and said, "I'll be at yours in ten, and then you're going to explain what the hell is going on and how you're planning on getting everything back."_

_Santana sighed gratefully and pressed her forehead to her knees. Maybe there was a little light at the end of the tunnel._

* * *

She's standing outside Lima Grand Hall, staring up at the old building and hearing nothing but her heartbeat loud inside her ears.

Truthfully, she's not really entirely sure why she's here. The plan made sense when she wasn't really paying attention to it, and she was so focused on getting here and thinking of that spark of hope inside of her that the plan never really processed fully.

But she is here, and she needs to do something other than stand outside Lima Grand Hall and stare up at it.

Walking through the large double doors, she runs her finger across the edges of the ticket in hand and approaches the small desk at the front. The receptionist directs her towards the main hall, and she manages a weak smile before making her way towards it, handing the usher her ticket when he asks her for it.

"You're a little late so you'll have to be quiet," he tells her and she nods.

If she wasn't as damn nervous as she is, she'd come back with a witty comment about that being obvious, but she doesn't and lets the guy lead her into the hall, holding open the door for her and flicking on that little torch in his hand.

"_That was the Mrs. Walters class," _the crowd applauds and the usher whispers _"this way" _through the walkway at the back, and Santana has to tear her eyes from the stage where a bunch of 7th graders are making their way off the stage, all dressed in matching black leotards. A few people are standing and clapping, and she's so focused on trying to find the Pierce clan at the front that she walks into someone's chair.

The woman glares up at her, and Santana mouths an apology as she begins to follow the usher again.

"_And next we have a solo performance to the track _Almost Lover _by _A Fine Frenzy,_" _the announcer tells the audience through the several speakers darted around the room. _"Performed by Brittany S. Pierce."_

Santana freezes in her spot at the very back of the hall, not caring for the usher calling for attention and stares at the stage, everyone clapping around her. Her vision wavers for a second but then the lights go down and she sees the outline of someone walking onto stage and taking their place on it, crouching down slightly in the center. She stops breathing, she's sure of it, and as the claps die down and a piano begins to play, her heart stops.

_Your fingertips across my skin  
__The palm trees swaying in the wind, images_

The lights begin to rise, and then there's Brittany in the center dressed in a black skirt and a matching leotard, rising onto the balls of her feet and drifting both arms out to the side slowly. Her eyes are slightly squinted and lips slightly parted, and Santana can't think of anything but how beautiful and peaceful she looks right now.

_You sang me Spanish lullabies  
__The sweetest sadness in your eyes, clever trick_

The lyrics suddenly flow to Santana's ears and she inhales deeply, swallowing against a thickening throat. Is Brittany dancing for her? Is this song for her?

On stage, Brittany dips low and twirls around in time with the music, her eyes closing when she faces the stage and the opens when they're away. The muscle in her calf is defined, and her blonde hair is loose and wavy around her shoulders in the way Santana always used to love.

And it hurts. It really fucking hurts and she clenches her jaw, chin ducking to her chest in shame but eyes staying firmly on the stage.

_Well, I'd never want to see you unhappy  
__I thought you'd want the same for me_

Santana's eyes widen and her mouth drops open, her heart a deafeningly loud volume in her ears. She crosses her arms across her chest and stares. Brittany's pale skin glows underneath the fluorescent lights, and she glides across the floor, performing a plethora of moves that Santana's only ever seen in _Billy Elliott _and _Black Swan. _The emotion is clear in Brittany's dancing and it winds its way around Santana's heart, pulling tightly until Santana can barely breathe.

_Goodbye, my almost lover  
__Goodbye, my hopeless dream_

Her hand comes up to her chest and she chokes out a sob, the heat getting too much to blink back anymore. This song is for her. This performance is for _her, _and all she wants to do is walk down the center walkway and get up on stage, telling Brittany and everyone how much she means to her. How much she regrets everything and how they can get over everything that they've done to each other because that's what two people do when they want each other enough.

Except as her foot comes off the floor, shifting to step forward, the lyrics stop her.

_I'm trying not to think about you  
__Can't you just let me be?_

The words hit her hard and if she weren't already against the back wall, she would have just staggered back into it. She sobs loudly, hand shooting up to her mouth to cover it as she watches Brittany swing both hands up to the air and then dips backwards, her knees bending until she's leaning back onto the floor.

And with the light shining directly down upon her, Santana can see the tears forming at the corner of her eyes and it only hurts even more.

_So long, my luckless romance  
__My back is turned on you  
__Should've known you'd bring me heartache  
__Almost lovers always do_

Because this song is for her.

This performance is for her.

But it's also a message.

It's a message from Brittany that she doesn't want to hurt anymore.

She doesn't want to feel the way she does and that Santana makes her feel like that.

Santana's lip quivers and she whimpers, sucking both of them into her mouth and feels the tears trail down her cheeks. This is Brittany's goodbye.

_I cannot go to the ocean  
__I cannot try the streets at night  
__I cannot wake up in the morning  
__Without you on my mind_

Santana shakes her head against the lyrics, like it's going to stop this. Her nails dig into her forearms and she lifts her elbow up to wipe at her nose.

Now that she's here, watching Brittany tell her everything through song and dance, she understands.

It didn't matter that Mrs. Pierce told her to stay away, because there was still that bit at the back of her mind, telling her that Brittany still wanted her. That even though they've both done things they regret, Brittany still wanted to work through it and the only thing standing in the way was Mrs. Pierce.

And Santana thought she could overcome that. She thought that Romeo and Juliet could go against their rivaling families, so why couldn't she and Brittany get through Mrs. Pierce?

They could, and she was still tightly gripping onto that hope.

But now it's all changed, because it's not Mrs. Pierce telling Santana that she doesn't her, it's _Brittany._

_So you're gone and I'm haunted  
__And I bet you are just fine_

Santana shakes her head in response to the words, she just wants to tell Brittany that's not true.

She wants to tell her that every single day is the hardest of battles because she doesn't have the one thing she wants, the one thing she _needs _by her side.

But she's stuck, staring, completely mesmerized as Brittany sweeps her arms around in a circle around her and then glides to her feet. Santana's never seen anyone dance like this; with such emotion and feeling that it _hurts _to watch. It hurts to hear, because every word and every movement is directed towards her.

_Did I make it that easy to walk  
__Right in and out of my life?_

Hot tears spill over her cheeks, and she's rubbing furiously at them but it doesn't matter. They're replaced as soon as they're wiped away and it's getting harder and harder to conceal the sobs and whimpers cracking up from her throat.

_Goodbye, my almost lover  
__Goodbye, my hopeless dream_

Up on the stage, Brittany's tears are falling and it's so painfully beautiful.

She's moving around the stage, pointedly not focusing on anything but her movements and her eyes are a glossy blue. Her arms flow around her, soft like she's flying and fall back to her sides where they curl and rise again, curling into a circle in front of her and legs pushing up, balancing on her toes and spinning in time with the music.

Santana has never seen anything this beautiful before. She's never seen anything so full of emotion, of pain, yet she can't help but stare in awe as Brittany dips forward, her leg lifting high behind her until it's reaching higher than her body.

_I'm trying not to think about you  
__Why can't you just let me be?_

Why can't she?

Santana's brows pull together and she sucks in her salty lips, thinking of the millions of reasons why she can't let Brittany go, why she can't let Brittany be.

Everything in her life turned upside down when Brittany came along.

Brittany was the best thing that ever happened to her, and consequently, the worst too.

She didn't feel anything before Brittany. She felt no love, no adoration, no warmth. She felt nothing apart from the human needs, and she was cold before Brittany. She was an ice block, and then Brittany came along and melted her down.

It was unexpected. It was shocking. It was scary. But it was worth it.

Brittany was everything Santana never knew she needed, and she came along and stepped into her life, brightening everything by a million shades and making everything the prettiest it could ever be. Every single second with her was like everything good in the world, because that's what Brittany was.

She made Santana feel. She made her open up and trust, and as Santana glances up at the stage, watching the tears spill down pale cheeks, she knows that's something she can never forget.

Brittany was everything. Brittany _is _everything.

But they're like two magnets. Before Santana was the negative and Brittany was the positive, and they were okay. They worked. But then something changed between them, something switched, and it's like they were revealed to be the same ends, and it pushed them apart.

It turns out they were both as bad as each other, and it's only opposites that attract.

And it put a space between them.

There's still that little hope, that tiny spark inside of her, that wish that she would make on every shooting star and every four leaf clover, that maybe, just like the beginning, they're wrong again. Maybe they really are opposite ends of the magnet and it will all turn out okay, just like in the movies.

_So long, my luckless romance  
__My back is turned on you_

But this is real life. And as the song comes to an end, and as Brittany's eyes clench shut and she continues to dance, rising up, with tears streaming down her face and sobs breaking from her chest, Santana realizes that this song is telling her she's wrong.

This song is telling her that things won't turn out the way they want, because sometimes there are no happy endings in life.

Brittany doesn't want to feel anymore pain, and so this is her goodbye.

_Should've known you'd bring me heartache  
__Almost lovers always do_

The piano plays out the last note at the end, and Brittany descends down to her knees, palms pressing against the stage and head bowing as the song ends.

The tears don't stop falling from either of the girls, and Santana clenches her eyes shut as the finality of this situation sinks into her chest.

It's over.

* * *

She barely even registers it's the end of the dance until the entire audience stand from their chairs and begin clapping, a fair few of them wiping away the tears forming in the corner of their eyes.

The announcer says something overhead about that being the end of the recital, but Santana's too focused on someone else chanting _"that's my baby!" _at the front of the audience.

She cranes her neck, tipping forward and she sees Mrs. Pierce standing at the very front, hands coming together and tears falling from her eyes. But that's not what makes her freeze.

Her blood runs cold and vision wavers as her eyes roam around the row and find a young guy, the one from earlier, the one who dropped off Maddie, running up the side of the stage and wrapping Brittany into a hug. He picks her up, his large arms winding around her waist and he spins her, a large grin on his face and Santana's stomach sinks.

She falls back onto her feet, and the tears continue to flow. Her arms hang uselessly by her side and it slowly sinks in that Brittany found someone else; someone who could treat her the way she needs, and the way she deserves. She's found someone who doesn't hurt her, even when it's the last thing on her mind, and Santana can't do anything about that.

The performance was a goodbye to Santana, and now she gets it, gets the song and gets why Brittany had to say goodbye.

_'I'd never want to see you unhappy. I thought you'd want the same for me.'_

That was another message, a message that meant that Brittany can't have Santana in her life anymore because she has someone else. She's hurting too much to hang onto Santana, and so she has to let her go and say goodbye.

And Santana gets that.

Brittany deserves better, and she will do her utmost best to be happy for Brittany, even if that means sacrificing everything she has.

So she twists on her heel, feeling everything drain out of her and walks away, the lyrics of the song playing over and over in her mind.

_Should've known you'd bring me heartache  
__Almost lovers always do_

Santana guesses it works both ways.

* * *

The next week at school is the hardest, but Santana doesn't really notice because she's too focused on being a mega bitch and dwelling in her state of depression to care for how anyone else is feeling.

She lashes out at everything and at everyone, student or teacher. Ten minutes into every lesson, she's being kicked out for aggressive behavior and storms off towards the bleachers, where she sits on that brown leather couch and cries into her arms.

Her GPA gets lower and lower, and it gets to the point where she just doesn't care anymore, about anything.

She's on automatic, and her heart doesn't go into anything. She supposes it's because she doesn't have one, so she just pushes through and lets her body do everything her mind and heart can't.

* * *

Spanish is by far the worst lesson – there's nowhere else to sit apart from beside the one person she _can't _– and she usually asks Mr Martinez to be excused because she's not feeling well.

Word must travel fast about her insane and out of control behavior, because after the third time he doesn't even let her finish his sentence before he nods and urges her out the classroom.

She's sure teachers should be trying to help her instead of just kicking her out, but she doesn't care, and so she just wanders around the empty hallways of McKinley High alone and thinks about everything she doesn't have anymore.

But it gets to Wednesday and when she walks into the Spanish room and asks for an absence, Mr Martinez tells her no and points her towards the desk at the back.

She sucks in a shaky breath and heads back there, praying that Brittany's off today because she just can't handle it. Her heart clenches and tightens, and her hands begin to shake as she slings her bag to the ground and slumps down into the chair, her knee bobbing beneath it and feet tapping on the floor.

The seconds pass and it seems like hours that she stares at the door, willing Brittany not to walk through it. Her heart pounds loudly against her ribcage, so much that she thinks it could explode, and she almost wishes that would happen; it'd be a distraction from Brittany walking through the door.

But luck isn't on her side today, and it's only a minute of her nails biting into the wood of the desk that the scent hits her and suddenly Brittany's everywhere.

Brittany's invading her senses and her mind, and it's the equivalent of walking into a brick wall because she springing back, jumping out her chair and grabbing her bag, making a beeline straight for the door and ignoring the way Brittany stands there, books tucked to her chest and eyes solely focused on Santana. She brushes past her, heart almost stopping as their skin touches and their eyes meet for the longest of split seconds before she's disappearing out the door and out of school.

She won't do anymore damage than she's already done.

So she's going to let Brittany be, just like Brittany wanted.

* * *

The next Spanish class is her last.

By the time she gets to the class, Brittany's already sitting at their desk, nervously chewing on the end of her pen and bobbing her knee up and down. Santana takes a moment to just stare at her. She hasn't looked at her for so long and it's slightly refreshing, it's slightly less painful.

For a long minute she just gets lost in Brittany's face, in those eyes that would always make her melt inside, those hands that knew her so well, and those lips that could kiss away any pain she felt.

But then reality hits her in the face and she's back in the room, the pain punching her in the gut and making her choke.

Brittany's eyes snap to the door and lock onto Santana, and that's the straw that breaks the camels back. She shakes her head and glances at Mr Martinez and then runs out the room. She can't sit in a class that has Brittany in it, let alone a desk that has Brittany right next to her.

So she just runs away and promises to never come back.

* * *

Santana doesn't go back to Spanish, in fact, it becomes the only class that she fully ditches.

She attends a few of her other classes, when she feels up to it, but Spanish is a no go. She doesn't even have her books anymore; those went in the trash can beneath the bleachers on Wednesday.

Although she didn't really think it through, and she should've because it shouldn't come as a surprise that the guidance counselor, Miss Pillsbury wants to see her in her office at lunch on Friday.

She goes, despite everything _not _wanting to, and thinks about the variety of things this could be about: attendance, failing her Senior year with a GPA that lowers everyday, her aggressive behavior. Really, there's a whole choice of things it could be about and so she sits patiently outside the office, bag resting by her side until she hears her name being called. She heads inside and wide eyes are staring up at her, and she can just feel the concern and worry radiating off the other woman as she takes a seat and throws her bag down again.

She even thinks there's a little pity there, and that makes her want to lash out.

But she can't in here. She can't _keep _lashing out and so she just takes a deep breath and counts to ten, calming herself.

"Santana," Miss Pillsbury's voice is soft and patronizing. It kind of pisses Santana off. "Do you know why you're here?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me."

The copper haired woman jerks back a little and blinks, taken aback by the tone. "We've had a few complaints about you, Santana, and a lot of people are worried about you."

Santana clenches her jaw muscles. "They don't need to be," she tells the woman, fingers curling around the arms of the chair, eyes focused on that too. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Miss Pillsbury says and Santana looks up with a hard expression. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"I have nothing to say," she gets out through gritted teeth.

"Well, how about why you're acting like this?"

Brown eyes roll and Santana feels frustration pour through her. She's only ever been in here once, and she knows how this goes usually, but so far Miss Pillsbury isn't playing by the usual rules and it gets Santana curious. Why hasn't the woman just handed her one of those stupid pamphlets and pushed her out the room again? That's what usually goes down.

"Look, Miss P," she says and leans forward, forearms pressing into the top of her thighs. "Can we just skip this and you hand me one of your advice pamphlets things, then I'll get out of your hair and you can go back to cleaning the corners of this room with a toothbrush that I hope to God isn't yours."

Miss Pillsbury's eyes grow wide and she blinks, looking like a cat that's just been caught in the headlights. Her mouth drops open but before anything can come out, the office door opens and Santana's entire body tenses. It's that thing again, where all her senses are overwhelmed and she doesn't know why, but she turns again, just to make sure what she's feeling is true, and sure enough, Brittany's standing at the door, staring wordlessly at Santana with her jaw slack and eyes glossy.

"Brittany," Miss Pillsbury breathes, almost like she's relieved and pushes up from the desk.

But Santana just whips her head back round, clamps her jaw shut and shakes her head at the woman, disappointed and pissed off. How could she do that? She's supposed to be a guidance counselor. She's supposed to help students and not put them in situations they don't want to be in.

Miss Pillsbury's stares at her, expression contorting with guilt and Santana narrows her eyes, glaring intently at her. She knows what this was supposed to be. This was supposed to be one of those reconciliation things where Miss Pillsbury comes out as the hero because she brought two students together again.

But no, Santana's not going to be a part of that. She's been doing everything in her power to make sure that doesn't happen because if she gets close to Brittany, she's only going to hurt her again.

And she can't live with herself if she does that again.

Shooting up from her seat, Santana bends down to sweep her bag and throws it over her shoulder, bolting out the door and leaving Brittany and Miss Pillsbury to stare at her retreating form behind her.

She won't hurt Brittany. Not again.

* * *

**What did you think?**


	23. Part Twenty Two A

**Title: **Waiting On The World To Change [Part Twenty Two A]**  
****Rating: **NC-17**  
****Word Count: **5.3k**  
****Author's Note: **I asked my followers on Tumblr if they wanted me to wait for my beta to finish each part before posting, but they said no, they wanted each part as they came despite the fact I won't be able to put Part B or Part C up tomorrow or the next day. So apologies if you're expecting a speedy update but there won't be.

* * *

Six weeks. Six whole weeks without Brittany, and it hasn't got _any _easier.

Everything still hurts: her brain, her eyes, her bones, her heart... _Especially_, her heart.

Everything's still fucking painful and nothing is quelling the burning bitterness and anger curdling in the pit of her stomach. It's just there, growing like unwanted bacteria, and she just doesn't want to feel like this anymore, like she's hopeless and twirling in a downward spiral of depression with only the blackness of pain ahead of her.

It's only been a month and a half and she's already fed up of this fucking feeling, sick of the hopelessness and the heartache and the knowledge that her heart just isn't beating right and hasn't done for six damn weeks.

She's just done with it.

"You look awful."

Santana doesn't even turn to Sugar's voice and continues down the center of the corridor, ignoring the narrowed glares and strange expressions shot her ways. She's used to them now, though. She's used to everyone looking at her and thinking '_that's the bitch that broke Brittany's heart' _because fucking _everyone _loves Brittany. The Cheerios do, and the AV nerds, and even the fucking Skanks.

_Hell, _even Coach Sue fucking likes Brittany and getting Coach like someone is like trying to separate Winnie The Pooh from his pot of honey.

(In some ways, Santana kind of hates that.

Why does everyone think she's the bad guy?)

"Aspergers?" She tries.

Sugar being rude isn't always Sugar being rude, sometimes it's the 'aspergers' (Quoted, because they're self-diagnosed).

Sugar shakes her head. "Nope. Harsh truth."

"Well, if you leave a note or a voicemail, I'll be sure to ring you back and thank you properly when I find the box of fucks I give," Santana drawls out with heavy sarcasm as the girl rolls her eyes next to her.

This is a conversation she's been wanting to avoid, and for the last few weeks she has by taking longer routes to her lessons and not answering her phone or front door. That's kept Sugar and this conversation at bay, until now.

"Are you for real, Santana?"

When she doesn't respond, Sugar reaches out and grabs her arm, pulling them both to a halt. Santana doesn't make eye contact, instead dropping her gaze to her Chucks as Sugar examines her. She's had enough of that for an entire lifetime, and the irrational urge to yell or slap the other girl is too much, so avoiding eye contact is good right now.

"How long are you going be like this?" Sugar asks, her voice low and serious in a tone that Santana's never heard before.

She doesn't answer, though, instead focusing on gritting her teeth and swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Are you just going to try and push everyone away now?"

Still no answer.

"Jesus, Santana! Seriously!? You're not even going to answer me?"

It takes a few more moments of silence and lack of response for Santana to even look up. When she does, her eyes find Sugar's and she tries to convey as much as she can with a single glare; _'stop talking to me', 'you don't understand, never will' _and _'help me' _all push through to the front at the same time. Sugar actually chuckles at her, but it's bitter and forced and it makes that irrational urge grow a little more rational.

"_Ugh_, Santana," Sugar says, dropping her head and rubbing her forehead between her thumb and forefinger. "Come with me."

Santana doesn't object, instead follows her into the bathroom and watches her lean against the sink with crossed arms and a half-stern, half-concerned expression.

"What the hell are you doing?" The girl asks, eyes squinting with worry.

"I was going to lesson before you abducted me," Santana retorts, watching Sugar's features fall with a lack of humor. So much for dodging this conversation.

"You followed me in here voluntarily."

Santana ducks her chin to her chest and lets out a long, heavy sigh. There's really nothing inside of her that wants to have this conversation, to talk about Brittany and receive the obvious lashing Sugar's going to dig out. She doesn't feel like doing that right now. She doesn't feel like doing anything.

"What is going on inside your head? Because you're yelling at everyone, bunking lessons, coming to school with your freaking glasses," Sugar points to her nose which have black rimmed spectacles perched upon it. "With a _hoodie _on," she points to Santana's chest, picking up the dangling strings to emphasize her words. "You're barely even talking," she pulls her brows together. "So, what the hell is going on?"

Santana shakes her head because she doesn't really know what to say that Sugar doesn't already know. The entire school knows about the bet, and about her and Brittany, so Sugar does too. Everyone thinks that _she _broke Brittany's heart, and that _she's _the bitch.

There's not much more she can say then what's already known. So, she plunges her fists into the front pocket of her hoodie and lifts her chin, keeping stoic features and not revealing anything that she hasn't already revealed.

Sugar stares at her, her face slowly contorting with anger as she realizes Santana's not going to reply. Her brows tighten, furrowing further and upper lip curling into a half-snarl that actually causes Santana to take a step back as her eyes grow wider and wider.

If there was one thing she could never _ever _imagine Sugar being, it's angry. Sure, she can be quirky, weird, happy, emotional in the weepy kind of way... But mad? _Never. _That's unheard of.

"Holy hell, Santana," Sugar says, spinning round to face the mirror, hands falling to the ledge of the sink and curling around it. She watches the girl, gripping the edges of the sink until the back of her knuckles go white and opens her mouth to tell when all of a sudden Sugar whirls around, steps towards her and flares her nostrils in anger.

"Would you just get your head out your ass and stop feeling so goddamn sorry for yourself!"

It's a sudden outburst that causes her to stumble back a half-step, away from Sugar and away from the intimidating and furious sharpness shadowing the other girl's face. She feels anger burn in her veins, and sees the need to scream back right in front of her, but can't seem to follow through with it. This isn't just Sugar yelling at her, not really. It's more Sugar telling her what she's like and who she's becoming; it's a wake up call.

That still doesn't do anything to bypass the stubbornness built into her. Santana Lopez doesn't back down, not to anyone.

"Back off, Motta," she breathes out, nudging her glasses further up her nose after her arm lifts. "You don't know shit."

A brow arches. "You're acting like the victim," Sugar speaks, clearly, lifting her chin to heighten the volume of her voice. "When you're not the only one suffering here. You know that right?"

Guilt pours through Santana as she thinks about how Brittany must be acting. So far she's been wrapped up in her own head, doing just what Sugar said and has been feeling sorry for herself that she hasn't really thought about how Brittany is. Obviously Brittany's been running through her mind constantly, but never once has she really thought about how the blonde must feel. Anger and hurt has always got the better of her, blocking her thoughts before she could consider Brittany.

She's so fucking selfish.

"Sugar... I–" her words die, but at the same time Sugar cuts her off.

"No!" The cheerleader takes in a deep breath before continuing. "Stop being so _pathetic_. I'm sorry that you and Brittany didn't work out the way you wanted it to. I'm sorry that you've been moping around because you're hurt, but mostly I'm sorry that I'm having to do this because I don't like my voice like this!" She screeches in a high pitched version of her original tone and Santana almost chuckles.

"But what you did to Brittany was _so _much worse than what she did to you," Sugar steps forward, jaw clenching considerably so. "You're acting like you've been with her for years and it's ridiculous. She didn't leave you. She didn't walk out your apartment with your damn dog, taking all her clothes and belongings with her. She stopped talking to you because you made a freaking _bet _that you could sleep with her within a week!"

Listening to Sugar speak just works Santana up more and more until she's pretty sure the color of her cheeks resemble a tomato. Heat pricks below her skin and her features twist and furrow with every word that escapes the other girl's lips.

Sugar steps closer as she breathes in deeply. "_You _treated her like a joke, Santana. You disrespected her and freaking used her. I really don't even know how you can stand there and act all hurt, I really don't. She moved away from Carmel to get away from people like you, and Santana," she shakes her head. "I thought you were better than that, but you're no better than those Carmel _scum."_

Santana feels something coil inside of her and heat travel up to her eyelids where it pricks and makes her vision blur. Sugar has no fucking right to say all this shit, to coax her into the bathroom just so she can yell at her when she fucking feels like this, or to tell her just how bad of a person she is when _Brittany _cheated on her. _Brittany _did, it wasn't the other way round at all.

"Oh, fuck off!" Santana blurts out, lurching forward and shoving Sugar by the shoulders.

The other girl barely stumbles back, and it comes to her attention that there was no real aggression behind the push. There was no aggression because she's not that angry. The feeling coiling in the pits of her stomach wasn't bled out from fury. It seeped out through her wounds because she's in fucking _pain. _She's in emotional agony and there's _nothing _she or anyone else can do about it.

Anger surges down her spine and she steps forward until they're nose to nose and she's fuming at the mouth.

"What she fucking did _was _worse, Sugar!" She yells and feels the words rip through her, clawing at her throat and tightening around her heart. One hand comes up to her hair, fisting a bundle of it and tugging in attempt to alleviate _any _of the pain from saying that out loud cause there's nothing more painful than this, _nothing._

"The girl I'm fucking in love with–" Sugar's eyebrows raise but Santana barely notices, instead focused on the way her voice breaks. "Fucking _cheated _on me. I mean–_fuck. _I fucking let her in," she pounds her chest, feeling her heart crack a little more. "After years of blocking everyone _out, _and she fucking–" her voice breaks again as a long tear trails down her cheek. She's quick to wipe it away with the back of her hand. "She fucking cheated on me, Sugar..." she finishes in a whisper, dropping her head and feeling wetness coat her skin. Her head begins to shake as she whispers out, "she broke my heart," in a volume that only she could hear.

It only takes a second before arms wrap around her shoulders and pull her into a hug she didn't know she needed. She instinctively buries her nose into Sugar's shoulder and loops her arms around her waist, pulling them together as sobs tear at her chest.

Months ago, she wouldn't even dare to give Sugar so much as a pat on the shoulder.

Months ago, she wouldn't be seen dead showing emotion inside the school, let alone the girl's bathroom where _anyone _could walk in.

But then again, months ago, she wasn't feeling like this; so alone, so hurt, so heartbroken and so God damn miserably in love with Brittany, that she'd give everything she has to take back those few moments in the school hallway when those four fucking words – _"it was a bet"_ – ruined everything she's ever wanted.

_(God, _she'd do anything to take that back.)

"Santana..." Sugar's breath is warm on her ear and she shudders, not being used to the closeness of someone.

Santana feels the vulnerability sink in and snaps back, straightening herself and furiously rubbing at her cheeks.

"Don't," she says strongly even though it sounds a lot like _'help me'. _"She cheated on me," she repeats, and it doesn't hurt any fucking less.

Sniffing in, she side-steps Sugar until she's facing the mirror and widens her eyes, allowing the running mascara smudges to show themselves. With the pad of her thumb, she swipes it along the puffy skin below her eye and removes it. If there's one thing she can do after six weeks, it's pretend to stay strong. Pretending is what she does best, anyway.

"What's done is done," she says with finality and turns around to face the other girl once more.

Sugar looks at her with understanding; not of her pain or suffering, but of her need to pretend to stay strong. Sometimes, pretending is better than facing reality.

"Santana," the girl breathes. "I know you're hurting... And I'm not saying I understand what you're going through because I don't," Sugar sucks in her bottom lip and eyes her sympathetically. Annoyance bounds through her and she clenches her jaw. Before, she hated people being sympathizing with her, but _now _she fucking _despises _it. "But it was just a kiss... I mean, we're not in 7th grade anymore," she offers her palms up and shrugs. "And it's killing you both. So, maybe, you should just... I don't know, forgive her?"

Santana doesn't hear much after 'kiss', because at the word, heat bloomed over her body from the rage coursing through her veins.

"It wasn't just a fucking _kiss,_" she hisses. "Brittany fucking _slept _with someone."

Only silence follows her sentence, and it's not until her breathing gets almost deafeningly loud in her own ears that she realizes Sugar's staring at her. Santana tightens her grip on the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white as pain shoots up her wrist and she can't quite figure out why the hell she hasn't answered, or why the hell Sugar's lips are curling up into a smile...

"Why are you–"

"You're kidding, right? I mean..." Sugar takes a step closer and ducks her head, eyes finding eyes. "You're just trying to be funny?"

Santana blinks and grits her teeth. "Yeah, this is _real _fucking funny," she says, irritation flooding through her. This is the furthest situation from fucking _funny_ she's ever been in.

Sugar sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Brittany didn't sleep with someone–"

"Yes, she fucking di–"

"Would you just shut up for one fucking second!?" Sugar yells and Santana flinches, eyes growing wide as she watches anger pass through the other girl.

All these years they've been friends, she's never seen Sugar as anything other than happy. Actually, maybe sad, but that was when her goldfish died in the 8th grade and even then she wasn't incredibly emotional. She just smiled four times every minute rather than five. Come to think of it, Santana can't really remember a time when Sugar cursed either. Shit, Sugar must be _really _pissed off.

"Christ! You're such an idiot!" The other girl continues, pacing around the bathroom in a small circle with one hand on her hip, the other on her face. "And you don't even know why you're an idiot which just makes you a bigger one!" She laughs through her words, but it's a breathless and exasperated laugh.

The panic in Santana ten folds.

"Wha–"

Sugar cuts her off because she can even really start. "Just fucking hear me out seeing as you clearly didn't hear Brittany out, even when you were told to."

Santana wants to argue but she can't. It's true; the one thing Kurt said to her when she was walking into the Choir room those few weeks back was to 'hear Brittany out' and she never did that. Even now, the hesitancy to hear even Sugar out for Brittany, is growing inside of her because there's just no valid reason for adultery.

But seeing as she just heard a few curses and an outburst that she never expected, she thinks that maybe she should give Sugar _one _chance before she flips off the listening switch and lives her life forever hurting.

So, clamping her mouth shut, she does just that, and hears Sugar out.

"Fine," she agrees, crossing her arms over her chest. "One chance and that's it. Then you drop it," she grits her teeth. "Okay?"

Sugar eyes her for a long second then nods, and Santana watches the girl shake the frustration out of her body with a wave of her arms. Sugar's sneakers make small squeaks along the bathroom floor as she continues to pace in a circle, closing her eyes and scrunching her forehead together then releasing it like she's trying to find the right way to approach what she's about to announce.

It shouldn't be as worrying as it is, but Santana finds herself growing more and more concerned with the silence that drags on.

Thankfully, it doesn't last too much longer though, because Sugar stills, with her back facing Santana and speaks.

"Brittany didn't cheat on you by sleeping with someone, Santana," she says it softly and spins around on the balls of her feet. "She only kissed Mike Chang in a game of Spin The Bottle."

Santana's mouth drops open but no words come out.

* * *

It's fifteen minutes later, and they're still in the bathroom, except Santana's on the floor by the wall and Sugar's sitting crossed legged by her side.

Santana has one knee bent with the other stretched out in front of her and elbow rested on her kneecap. Her head's propped in that and has been for fourteen and a half minutes whilst her mind has been racing and still is swarming with thoughts. She still hasn't spoken, but that might be because she's not entirely sure if she can even say anything. Words seem to have bypassed her mind and escaped somewhere.

(Second time in six weeks that this has happened. It doesn't skip her notice that both situations have had the same main factor.)

"Santana?" Sugar's voice is soft and laced with concern. "Can I ask you something?"

Still speechless, Santana nods into her palms and feels the heels of them dig into her eye sockets.

"Did you ever tell her you're in love with her?"

Santana's head snaps up so fast she's pretty sure it's momentarily suspended from her neck. She wants to be surprised by the question. She wants to be shocked that Sugar just told her she's in love with Brittany, and gasp dramatically, hand covering her heart.

But she can't.

Being in love with Brittany is something she's pretty sure she's known all along.

Swallowing the thickness in her throat, she drops her head and lets it hang. "No," she answers, weakly. "I didn't."

Memories of that day in the mall after their weekend together flashes back. She remembers the way Brittany looked in the darkness of the alcove. She remembers bright blue eyes, soft, glowing skin and a smile that made her heart skip a beat. She remembers the lingering touches Brittany gave her as she traced along her jawline and how _"you know we have to talk about it sometime, though"_ flowed out between perfect lips; pretty and soft like the petal of a pale pink rose after Santana's miniature freakout in the center of the mall.

She remembers all of it.

And somehow, she thinks that maybe if she'd just told Brittany then – after figuring out that what she felt was staring right back at her – that none of this would have happened. If she'd just listened to Brittany's mom, and noticed the silenced _I love you's _that flashed behind her eyes every time they kissed, they wouldn't be apart right now. They wouldn't be heartbroken and hurting. They wouldn't be so incomplete.

"But how–" she starts, heart lodging in her throat. "How are you supposed to tell someone that?" She lifts her head and turns to meet Sugar's gaze as if the girl will know the answer. "How are you supposed to tell someone that you're so in love with them it actually hurts to not be around them? How can you just–" she sucks in a shaky breath and ignores her malfunctioning heart beat. "How can you just give someone that much of yourself with a few words, and trust them not to crush you?"

Sugar sucks in her bottom lip but listens intently, hand coming over to rest upon Santana's where it lays upon her own knee.

"How can you just give yourself like that to someone, so wholly and irrevocably?" Santana clenches her jaw against the heat prickling at her lids and squeezes her eyes shut, trying to swallow the pain clawing up the back of her throat. "How can you just do that?" She whispers the last part to herself, hoping it'll bring some type of epiphany. Realization of the truth, so to speak.

Sugar squeezes her hand again but stays silent, allowing Santana to regulate her breathing and bite back the tears threatening to spill. That's one of the best things about Sugar, Santana thinks, that maybe yeah, she can be rude and sort of dumb at times, but when it comes down to the sentimental and serious shit, Sugar knows how to play it right.

"Because, Santana," the other girl starts, swiveling until she's on her knees and staring at Santana with hands cupping at tanned cheeks. "That's what love is. Love is giving yourself to someone in every possibly way and trusting them not to take you for granted. Love is waking up in the morning and smiling because you have that person in your life. Love is hurting so bad but powering through it because at the end of the day," she swallows and Santana feels her lower lip quiver. "Everything is worth it for that one person. Even if it hurts more than you could imagine."

Santana listens to the words and pulls her brows together as Sugar shifts and sits back down beside her. She never really thought about love. She never thought she _would _fall in love because that just wasn't her. But then Brittany came around and turned her head upside down, and now she's here; alone and hurting and thinking about love.

And Brittany, _especially_ Brittany.

"So," Sugar breaks the silence and glances towards her. "What are you gonna do?"

She wants to know, _fuck, _she really does. She'd do absolutely anything to close her eyes and open them, to find a panel of options of what to do in front of her. She'd do anything to be able to just turn back time, and go back to that day in the choir room and do what she was told.

If she had, she wouldn't be in this situation. She wouldn't be thinking how fucking stupid she is for jumping to conclusions and then in turn, breaking her own and Brittany's heart.

_Fuck._

If she could just turn back time, she'd make it all okay.

"I don't know," she lets out through a long exhale, pulling her legs to her chest and dropping her forehead to her kneecaps. "She just..." She lifts her head and turns to Sugar, eyes narrowed. "Are you sure that she just kiss–"

"Yeah," Sugar cuts in, nodding down at the floor. "It was a dare and she didn't know how you were going to react. She was so drunk and it was just a peck, but in the morning she woke up thinking it wasn't and was just so torn up about it."

Santana presses the heels of her hand into her eyes until she feels a dull ache at the back of them. "Why didn't she just say that?" She asks, exasperatedly, dropping her hands and letting her eyes meet Sugar's. "Why didn't she just tell me she kissed someone on a _dare?_"

"Because it's still cheating," Sugar tells her, shrugging. "And Brittany was just so distraught about it because she couldn't remember and had to be told about it. I don't know," she shakes her head and looks away. "She just thought you'd hate her."

"I could never hate her." It comes out so quickly Sugar whips her head around, eyes quizzical like she's wondering if Santana knew she was going to say that. "And I've spent the last six weeks thinking she slept with someone else," she explains, sighing. "I've spent the last six weeks thinking she didn't want me and that I wasn't enough for her, so she found someone else."

Sugar's lips curl up and she smiles, almost proudly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Santana nods, swallowing and scrunching her eyebrows together. "I don't care that she kissed someone. It was a dare and she probably shouldn't have done it but..." she trails off and inhales deeply through her nose.

"But?"

Sucking in a deep, shaky breath, Santana close her eyes and lifts her head at the same time she says, "I just love her too much to let her go."

The grin that creeps across Sugar's face is so large, Santana actually finds herself smiling too. "And she loves you. So _why_ are you still here?"

Santana's expression drops and excitement buzzes through her. She jumps to her feet, her spine straight and eyes wide. Why is she still here? She loves Brittany. She's _in _love with Brittany, and Brittany loves her back.

And yet she's standing here with Sugar by her feet, staring up at her with that _just go! _face that makes her leg muscles burn with the need to run for Brittany, to run to her and to tell her that she's been an idiot. She was an idiot because their relationship may have started for the wrong reasons but it lasted for the right ones.

Her arms are twitching, and her hands are shaking, and she's not entirely sure what she's doing. She knows what she wants to do, but with this sudden rush of feelings and needs, it's like her entire body is frozen. All these memories rush through her mind, flashing across the inside of her eyelids and she gulps heavily.

Brittany's all she ever wanted and everything she never knew she needed.

So why the _fuck _is she still here?

She needs to go to Brittany.

She needs to see Brittany.

_Now._

By the time she's kicked her mind into gear and turned around to face the other girl, Sugar's already on her feet and holding out Santana's car keys. She's smiling and Santana's eyes dart down to the metal hanging from her fingers, and without another second, she's snatching them from her hand and bursting out through the bathroom door, sprinting towards her car and peeling out of her parking spot faster than you can say drive.

* * *

Santana doesn't think about anything she should do as she's breaking the speed limit driving towards Brittany's house.

She doesn't think about the possibility that Brittany might not want her anymore.

She doesn't think about that guy who turned up at her house, and the same guy she saw at Brittany's dance recital only hours later.

She doesn't even think about all the pain she caused; to herself, to Brittany, and to everyone else.

No, she doesn't think about that, even though she probably should be because she's driving over there with nothing but an _I love you _in her pocket and an apology that's weeks late.

All she thinks about is Brittany's face and her smile, and her laugh, and how beautiful she looks when she wakes up in the morning. That's the only thing that runs through her mind and as she goes through an amber light, she can't help but smile.

She'll do anything to get Brittany back. _Anything._

* * *

It's only when she pulls up to the curb outside Brittany's house that she starts to think about everything.

She sits there, hands clenching the driving wheels and eyes locked on the front door of the Pierce household, and allows all the memories, and possibilities, and problems surge through her mind until she's short of breath and panting under the cover of her own car.

What if Brittany doesn't want her?

What is she damaged Brittany so much–hurt her_ so_ much–that Brittany won't say the _I love you _back and shuts the door in her face?

What if Brittany chooses to stay with that guy, and Santana's left alone again, all because she was the world's biggest idiot?

That tiny spark of home inside of her extinguishes, and her shoulders slump, forehead falling hard onto the top of her driving wheel.

She picks up her head and rests her temple against the wheel, eyes focused on the house where so many incredible moments happened, where she and Brittany spent many hours together, kissing, and cuddling.

What if she's fucked this up, and does everything she can, but it's just not enough?

She lets out a long sigh and clenches her eyes shut.

What if she's not enough anymore?

* * *

She sits there for an hour in her car, lucky enough that Mrs Pierce doesn't come home from work early, before her thoughts get too much and her mind backs out of it.

Sliding her keys into the ignition, she revs up the engine and peels away from the curb.

Maybe it's for the best.

* * *

**I know I'm gonna get hate for this but so what, bring it on. I had this planned from the very beginning and**


	24. Part Twenty Two B

**Title****: **Waiting On The World To Change [Part Twenty Two B]  
**Rating****: **NC-17  
**Word****Count****: **6.1k

**Author****'****s ****Note****: **I know... You love me.

* * *

Her cell phone stares up at her on her desk when she gets home, and she breathes out a long, deep, defeated sigh as she thinks about all the texts she still has stored on there. They must have been read hundreds of times in the past six weeks, and all of those times, Santana ended up lying on her bed, curled up and wishing that Brittany was beside her.

But she wasn't, because she gone.

That was a reality Santana had to face.

She turns away from her cell, heading over to the bed and flopping down on it, face first.

She's screwed up so many things this year. She's screwed up her heart. She's screwed up her Senior year. She's screwed up her ability to ever love again. And _hell__, _she's even managed to screw up other people's relationships too.

Which reminds her, she still needs to do something about that.

Inhaling deeply, Santana uses her palms to push up from the bed and heads back towards her phone, her fingers itching with the need to find those text messages, and her heart aching for some evidence that she did once have a heart, and bypasses those to find the number she needs.

She clicks the call button, and holds the phone up to her ear, twisting until her butt rests on the edge of the desk and her fingers are tapping nervously along the wood of it. The dial tone rings. It rings seven times before anything comes down the line and Santana's never been good at these things. She's never been good at apologizing, and explaining, and the weirdest thing is, is that she's needing to do both of those things right now to Rachel Berry.

Rachel fucking Berry, of all people.

"_What __do __you __want__, __Santana__?" _Rachel sighs down the phone, and if Santana didn't know any better, she'd say she was crying recently.

"I need to explain something to you, and I need you to hear me out."

"_I __know __what __you__'__re __going __to __say __and __I __don__'__t __want __to __hear __it__, __Santana__."_

Santana shakes her head, despite the other girl not being able to see it. "You have to, please." She can't quite believe she's begging Rachel Berry, but if she can't fix her situation and can't make herself happy, she can do it for someone else. "Just let me explain to you."

Rachel's quiet for a long moment, but then she sighs and clucks her tongue. _"__Okay__. __Go __ahead__."_

Santana inhales deeply and puffs out her cheeks when she blows it out. "Quinn loves you, Rachel. She has done for a while now, and–" she wets her lips and swallows. "And I've honestly never seen her like this with anyone. Not in all the years I've known her."

"_Sant__–"_

"No, please," Santana holds out her hand in mid-air as if Rachel's in front of her. "Just listen."

Rachel stays silent to she continues.

"Quinn's a bitch. She's difficult, she's moody, she's complicated and so guarded that it makes me look like an open book. But I've never known her to look or to talk about someone the way she does with you."

Her own heart clenches and she thinks that maybe this is something she should've done a while ago, but used it with herself and someone else.

So many missed opportunities.

She clenches her eyes shut and forces her mind to focus back on this conversation.

"I see something in her that I've never seen before, apart from when she's with you, and honestly, she drove me to open up to Brittany." Her voice cracks and she feels her throat tighten at the mention of _her_name. "She made me want to be a better person for Brittany because... because I knew that if she could change, I could, too."

"_That __doesn__'__t __explain __anything__, __Santana__. __She __still __did __a __horrible __thing __and __neither __you__, __nor __Brittany __would __be __hurting __right __now __if __she __hadn__'__t __done __that__." _Rachel's voice is soft, but there's something a little deeper. Something Santana thinks is hurt. _"__So __I__'__m __afraid __I __can__'__t __forgive __her__."_

"I'm not asking you to forgive her immediately, Rachel." That must be the first time she's ever called Rachel by her first name and damn, that's weird. "I'm asking you to give her another chance because you've changed her for the better. And the only reason she ever made that bet was because she was confused and had to take her mind off her own problems because she couldn't deal with them."

"_That__'__s __still __not __an __excuse__–"_

"I know it's not," Santana cuts in. "What she did was wrong, and she knows that. But I know that she's probably at home right now _hating_herself for ever making that bet with me."

Rachel sighs. _"__I __don__'__t __know__, __Santana__..."_

"It wasn't her fault either, Rachel. What happened between me and Brittany–I mean." She shakes her head and reaches up with her free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "That's our problem and you can't hate Quinn because it happened."

"_It __would __never __have __even __started __if __she __hadn__'__t __made __that __bet__–"_

"Yes, it would," Santana interrupts and suddenly feels frustration burn through her. Maybe if Rachel weren't so damn annoying they could be friends. "Britt and I would've happened anyway. I knew from the moment I met her that we would've ended up together, one way or another." She shrugs to herself and drops her arm to her side, plucking at the waistband of her jeans, trying to ignore the way pressure is building on her chest. "I think fate had something to do with us."

"_Quinn __still __shouldn__'__t __have __made __that __bet__, __though__." _Rachel tells her and Santana lets her eyes fall shut again.

"No, she shouldn't. But there's no way you can be punishing her more than she's punishing herself, Ber–Rachel." She inhales deeply and tucks her arm underneath her other, pinning her hand to her rib cage. "I know that if she could take it back–if there was _anything _she could do to _not _fuck it up with you–she would."

A part of her mind screams and scolds her. She's not sure she's talking about Quinn and Rachel anymore.

"So, please," she continues and bites her bottom lip. "Just talk to her." She pauses. "That's all I'm asking."

Rachel stays silent again for a long moment, but then she lets out a long exhale and a rustling sound comes from the other end. _"__Okay__. __But __I__'__m __not __promising __anything__, __Santana__. __It __was __her __doing __and __her __choice__."_

"I know, Rachel. But thank you," Santana says, lowly. "For giving her a chance."

She pulls the phone away from her ear, ready to hang up the call when she hears Rachel call her name again. She brings it back to her and pulls her brows together.

"_You __know __Brittany__'__s __in __love __with __you__, __right__?"_

Santana clamps her jaw shut and blinks away the tears threatening to spill. "No," her voice breaks. "Not anymore."

"_You__'__re __wrong__," _Rachel says and Santana's mouth drops open to tell her that actually _no__, __she__'__s _wrong, but Rachel speaks again first. _"__I __just __spent __the __last __hour __on __the __phone __with __her__, __and __all __she __could __say __was __how __much __she __missed __you__."_

"That doesn't mean she's in love with me, Berry."

"_It __does __when __it__'__s __Brittany__." _Rachel breathes. _"__Look__, __Santana__, __she __took __a __chance__. __So __why __can__'__t __you __do __the __same__?"_

Santana frowns and narrows her eyes, but she doesn't even have a chance to ask the girl what she means before Rachel hangs up.

* * *

Later that night, she's lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and her mind is going a mile a second. There are so many thoughts she's not sure which to focus on.

But there's one main factor that everything boils down to and it's not exactly hard to guess what that is.

_Brittany__._

Santana turns over in her bed and buries her face into the pillow, fingers clenching tightly against the sheets covering the mattress.

What did Rachel mean earlier? Is that some sort of prompt for Santana to kick her ass into gear and go after Brittany? And what did that mean anyway? _'__Brittany __took __a __chance__?' _Is Rachel calling Santana the chance? Or what's the chance?

_Ugh__, _Santana doesn't even know.

She guesses in some ways, when she does think about it, she was a risk. She was a huge one because Brittany was guarded and was reluctant to even have anything to with her at the beginning. She remembers all those times she'd flirt with her and use the usual moves, and how Brittany would reject her. And it didn't matter that Santana was trying to prove that she'd changed because it was all down to Brittany in the end. Brittany had to take a chance on Santana, and it could either have failed horribly or been wonderful.

And for those few weeks, well, that week or two, it was wonderful.

What Rachel said confuses her, though. Like, does Rachel mean the tables have turned and Santana has to decide whether she wants to take a chance on Brittany?

But Brittany didn't even do anything?

Apart from kiss Mike Chang, but not only was that in a game of Spin The Bottle, but that's also petty considering Santana's spent the last God knows how many weeks thinking she'd slept with someone and that hurt _way _more.

Or does Rachel mean Santana has a choice? A choice to put her heart on the line and take a chance to see if Brittany will welcome it with open arms, or will leave a footprint over the top as she steps off it and marches away?

Yeah, Santana thinks it's probably that one.

There are so many things stopping her, though. So many of her past mistakes are haunting her now because she knows if she'd just had that damn conversation with Brittany about what they were, or where they were heading, they wouldn't be in this damn mess. She knows she should've done the talk sooner, and the fact that she didn't makes her think Brittany won't take her back.

What if she can't live up to her promises?

What if Brittany thinks that she's a scared little girl who goes around making bets and screwing up people's lives?

What if Brittany's actually dating that guy and there's no room for Santana in her life anymore?

Santana grunts into her pillow and pushes her nose so hard into it tears form in her eyes. Everything's so damn complicated. One day she's knows she's going to look back at this time in her life and think how fucking stupid, dumb and idiotic she was because she didn't try.

And that's when it hits her.

She hasn't even _tried__._

She's assuming all of Brittany's reactions to those three words, and even then it's still what it is: an assumption. She doesn't know Brittany's going to kick her to the curb. She doesn't know if Brittany will take it wholeheartedly and forgive her. She just doesn't know.

And she'll _never _know, whether the outcome is bad or good, if she doesn't take that risk and fucking _try_.

As she grabs her keys, slips on her shoes and sprints downstairs, she realizes exactly what Rachel had meant.

For the second time in a day, she's speeding towards Brittany's house with those same three words tucked inside her jacket pocket.

* * *

Santana doesn't realize how dark it is until she's parking beneath the cover of darkness, two houses down from Brittany's house. She doesn't realize the time until the dull orange glow of the digital clock blinks at her when the engine switches off.

And she doesn't think that Brittany might possibly be asleep until she glances at the Pierce household and finds all the lights off.

Nothing can stop her now, though. Nothing.

So, gingerly, she opens the door and steps out her car, shutting it gently behind her and tucking her hands deep in her pockets. The air is bitter, and cold, and the wind spikes her cheeks as she crosses the road in a slow jog and then walks the rest of the way to the house in mind, eyeing Brittany's car in the driveway.

She's home. That's step one complete.

Her heart's beating so loud inside her. It's thrumming and throbbing against her ribcage and she's sure there's a slight possibility that when Brittany comes into view, it might actually burst through her chest.

She stands at the end of the path, eyes drifting up the length of it until they lock on the front door, for a good ten minutes before her body is capable of moving. Her legs lead her forward, directed by her heart, but there's this other thing tugging in the back of her mind telling her to just give up and walk away because what's the point? Everything's so fucked up and what are the chances they're just going to be able to get past everything?

She just doesn't want to think about the answer.

She stops halfway down the path, realizing that maybe knocking on the front door wouldn't be such a good idea. Last time she did that, Susan came out and told her how she was to never return here because of how she treated her daughter, and if Santana knocks and Susan opens the door, Santana would be ignoring the one thing she promised Susan.

Maybe she should just never make promises; apparently she can't keep them.

So forgoing that idea, she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and searches around the garden, thinking how cheesy it would be to throw rocks at Brittany's window until opens it and leans out, but figuring that's pretty much her only option here. If she rang her, there'd be a good chance that Brittany wouldn't pick up and so she'd be left out here for no good reason.

And she's not going to walk away, not again.

She doesn't think she could handle doing it one more time.

Surrounding the walls of the Pierce household are flowerbeds, full of a variety of different colored flowers and she guesses if there's going to be decent sized pebbles there, ones that aren't going to form a crack in a window or break it if thrown at one, that's the place they'd be. One peek up at the house to check she hasn't been spotted, she heads over there and is pleased when she finds woodchips there instead. They're big enough to make a noise but not heavy enough to break the damn window.

She grabs a handful and walks backwards until she's far back enough that she can see Brittany's room. Her body is thrumming with nerves as she stares up at it, and she hasn't quite figured out what she's going to say yet but she's just going with the flow, hoping that the words will come when the time is right.

This really isn't the best idea she's ever had – she's throwing woodchips at someone's window to get their attention – but it's the only one she has. Everything else has failed so far and this is all she has left.

Taking in a deep breath, she picks up a single woodchip and reels her arm back, throwing it up at the window where it hits it with a quiet thunk. In the movies one is never enough so she takes a quick glance around her, hoping Brittany's neighbors aren't peering out their window and wondering why an eighteen year old girl is standing on the Pierce's front lawn, throwing freaking woodchips at a window and finds it clear, so picks up another.

She throws one after another, listening to the clunk and wincing when she puts a little too much power behind one of the woodchips, and it's only two minutes later that her palm is empty and she's run out of ammunition.

There must have been at least seventeen hits and there's no way Brittany couldn't have heard at least one of them. So she just rocks back on her heels, sends a quick prayer to the heavens and waits.

* * *

Five minutes pass and there's no sign.

The hope inside Santana's chest begins to fade and she can feel the sadness creeping up through her throat again, thickening it and making it harder for her to breathe.

Maybe Brittany doesn't want to see her.

Her head drops and shoulders sag, and she blinks back the sudden heat at the back of her eyes. She lifts her hand and stretches it over her forehead, pinching both temples and wondering why she's so fucking stupid. Why is she even trying? Hasn't she done enough, already? She should just leave Brittany alone.

Leave Brittany be.

She lifts her head, watching the window and waiting and hoping one last time before she gives up. Before she gives up and shuts her eyes, shaking her head and starts walking away for the last time.

"Santana?"

Her entire body freezes, eyes glistening with unshed tears and she spins on her heel, expecting Brittany to be standing at the front door but she's not. She's standing at her now-open bedroom window, dressed in a flannel pajama pants and Santana's baggy sweatshirt she borrowed all that time ago when her car broke down, and Santana finds herself having a hard time breathing for a different reason this time.

She'd completely forgotten about that sweatshirt up until now, and for the first time in weeks she actually _feels_her heartbeat. She hears the dull throb pick up a little and it's like Brittany's brought her back to life, when everyone and everything else failed to, just by being her and wearing that damn sweatshirt.

Brittany rubs at her eyes, blinking sleepily as she slides the window open and leans out half of it. As soon as her eyes land on Santana, all the previous fatigue that was etched across her face disappears and it's like she's suddenly more awake and more aware of just _who_is at her window. And Santana curls her toes inside her shoes, twists her fingers together and holds onto the hope that the blonde girl will give her a chance before slamming the window shut. She holds onto that hope like it's the last thing she'll ever do and closes her eyes.

If Brittany's going to walk away, she'll do it now.

"Santana..." Brittany repeats, softer this time, and for the first time Santana notices the blonde girl's eyes. They're dark, and hopeless, like someone took away the light behind them. Her skin is pale white and the patches below her eyes are a shade darker.

Santana holds back the gasp at the recognition she sees before her very eyes. The way Brittany looks – the sunken eyes and blank demeanor – it's _exactly_ what Santana's been staring back at for the past five weeks. It's what she's seen when she's walked around the bathroom and what has been staring back at her when she looks in the mirror. The lack of faith, hope and the pain; she's not been the only one feeling it.

Her pulse gets almost deafeningly loud in her ears, and for the first time, she doesn't mind. She hasn't felt anything for these weeks – these weeks she's _somehow_ managed to survive without Brittany – and now the life is rushing back into her with every second those blue eyes bore into her skull.

Her eyes flutter shut at the rush inside her chest, and she opens them just in time to see Brittany shifting her weight and sighing loudly, before saying, "Why are you–"

"I used to be content with my life," she blurts out, cutting the other girl off and watching Brittany press her lips together, shocked and unimpressed by being interrupted. Santana feels the unease grow inside of her but knows this is her time. This is her moment. "I wasn't happy," she admits. "But I was okay with that."

Brittany's eyebrows scrunch together and she cocks her head to the side, confused. Santana wants to smile at how cute she is when she does that, but she knows things like that can't be vocalized whilst they're still in the situation they are. If she doesn't sort it out, doesn't try and fix it, she'll never be able to say things like that and that sucks more than could have ever imagined.

"I was okay with that because I was so blissfully unaware of how lonely I was that it didn't matter," she lifts her shoulders, hands stretching out in front of her and turning, palm up to emphasize her shrug. "It was okay because I didn't know what it was like to feel anything good. I didn't know what happiness was." She licks her lips and sucks in her bottom one, eyes drifting away to find strength that won't be hanging around to pick up. She has to push through the vulnerability she feels and just do it. "But then I met you."

Brittany's face drops and she straightens up, shoulders squaring and jaw clenching. Santana can tell her words are getting to the girl, but she's not sure how. She doesn't know if what she's saying is bad or good yet.

"I met you and my life changed." She shrugs again. "It was like getting hit by a freight train–" Brittany's face twists so Santana corrects herself quickly "–but in a good way." She shakes her head at those words. "Brittany," she sighs, taking a step forward. "You came along and I didn't know what was real anymore. You turned my life upside down and I didn't understand what I was feeling."

A floor up, Brittany bites the side of her lip, and crosses her arms over her chest. Maybe this isn't going as well as Santana thought it would.

"I didn't want to go to parties anymore," she continues. "I didn't want to lie to everyone and pretend like I didn't change into a complete bitch when I pulled into the parking lot at school. And I didn't want to sleep with every hot chick in the school anymore because I had the best one," she gestures with her hand up to Brittany and the beginnings of a smile cracks across the blonde girls face.

And Santana's chest blooms with the thought that maybe, just maybe, she's saying the right thing. For once in her life she might actually be saying and doing the right thing.

"I just–All my life, I've been trying to find the right time to do things, Britt." Her neck cranes up a little to maintain the eye contact with Brittany, but blue eyes flash with confusion and Santana inwardly kicks herself for doing that to her. Why can't she just say how she feels instead of beating around the bush? _Fuck__._

"To become who I really am, to be who I want to be... But it's just never come." She rolls her eyes at herself, thinking that's wrong. "Or when it _has_, I've just never realized," she lifts her shoulder and feels a tear trail down her cheek. "And that's the way it's been for so long that when those _'__right __times__' _came... I just let them pass and it turned me into this," she sweeps down her own body, head going with it but coming back up to regain the eye contact again. Something about Brittany's eyes gives her strength. "This _thing__–_this person that didn't even know herself, and until you, I didn't know how bad that person was."

Brittany gulps, and Santana squints her eyes slightly, trying to fight the urge to cry because this is not the time for emotions. All those times she's done nothing and _been _nothing, and now she's trying to do everything and it's all getting too much.

But she has to do this.

If there's one thing she needs to do in her life is show Brittany just how fucking in love she is with her. How in so little time she's gone from feeling nothing to everything just because Brittany came into her life.

She can feel her throat tightening at the thought, and the tears prick at her lids repeatedly like tiny needles. But she shakes her head. She shakes her head and shakes them away before this isn't the time for tears. This is the time to say everything she's feeling and everything she's felt because, well, she _needs _Brittany, more than anything.

She fucking needs her because otherwise she just doesn't function right. She just won't work without Brittany and she needs to tell Brittany because she's dying here. All the life inside of her is draining out and she needs her lifeline, her blonde, blue eyed lifeline that makes the word seem a little brighter just by being in it.

She just _needs _Brittany.

"If I'm honest, Britt, I got scared," she swallows thickly. "I got scared because you were and are just _so_perfect, and I knew I wasn't. I never would be and I never will be worthy of you and that just kind of stopped me from saying _it__._"

Her eyes squint and she knows Brittany's aware of what she's talking about. She knows she's talking about _those_three words and it makes Santana want to smile because Brittany doesn't even flinch, which means she knew. Brittany knew all along that Santana was madly in love with her and was just waiting for her to say it.

On the flip side though, isn't that worse? All that time she was waiting and all that time she was left disappointed.

_Fuck__. _Santana's such a shitty person.

And she knows that what she's about to bring up next is going to make her an even shittier person. _Shit__._

"I'm not going to make excuses for making that bet," she says, voice wavering. "I'm not going to tell you I didn't mean to make it because I did." Brittany's eyes narrow and her jaw clenches, face hardening in a way Santana's never really seen before. "I did it because I wanted to know who you were. That day at my brother's school changed me. It changed me because I was drawn to you in a way I'd never known to be drawn to anyone before, and it was in that moment that I changed."

Brittany eyes stop narrowing and her face relaxes. Santana breathes out a sigh of release, thumbing along the hem of her shirt and shifting her weight onto the other leg.

"You walked into me that day and I had all intention of being a bitch towards you, but that didn't come out. Something else did, about my brother being clumsy and that was the day you met _me__. _Not the Santana Lopez from McKinley High that hates everyone and everything, but the Santana Lopez that loves her family and cries from laughter at _Finding __Nemo_._" _The memory of that day passes through her mind and she feels the left side of her chest clench. "You met her and I didn't know what the hell was going on because no-one apart from family had ever seen that. And then you walked into me and it was right there, in an instant."

Santana pauses to take in a deep breath. It feels like she's been talking forever but there's so much more that she wants – that she _needs_– to say.

"I even went to school that day and found myself standing outside the choir room because you were dancing in there. I didn't know it was you, admittedly, but doesn't that make it weirder?" She asks, mostly to herself, licking her lips and biting it after. "I was drawn to you and I didn't even know that was you in there."

"That was you?" She hears and it's the first time Brittany's spoke. Her eyes widen and she almost punches her fist in the air to celebrate that the other girl is having some input towards this speech. It takes the weight off her chest a little.

"Yeah," Santana croaks, nodding. "That was me."

A small smile tugs at the corners of Brittany's lips and Santana can't help but mirror it. Is this really going to work out?

"And then the next day Quinn told me about this new girl," she chuckles to herself. "Which obviously was you and when I found out that you were _you__,_" she waves her hand about in the air and pulls it back when Brittany showed an amused expression. "I freaked."

When she says that, it suddenly feels like she's going round and round in circles again and moves her head from side to side rapidly, knowing this is totally going off point. She just needs to say _it__._

"Look, Brittany, I don't want to explain everything because anything I say is going to sound like an excuse and I don't want it to be. I don't want to be _excused _because what I did was so wrong. I know it was," she bobs her heads, agreeing to her own words. "But I just want you to know..."

It's there. It's right there on the tip of her tongue and she knows it's going to come out. It will. She's going to make it come out. Her heart pounds as she waits in anticipation.

"_God__, _I should have said it before," she chuckles bitterly to herself but then swallows and prepares it, knowing this is the right time. This is one of those '_right __times_' that she's let escape before, but won't this time. This time, she's actually going to embrace it and take it whilst it's within her reach. "But here it is..."

She takes in a deep breath, and lets her eyes dart up towards Brittany who's now leaning out the window, hands pressed to the edge of the windowsill, waiting to hear the words Santana's been dying to say. Her blue eyes are hesitant, her nails are biting into the wood and her white teeth are nibbling nervously on her bottom lip but Santana can tell she _wants _to hear it. She _needs _to and it scares Santana that she doesn't know what the response is going to be.

That won't stop her though. This is it, no matter what Brittany has to say in response.

"I'm in love with you, Britt," she breathes out, shrugging like it's not the first time she's ever said that to someone, like it's not going to change everything. "I'm in love with you and I don't care that you kissed boy Chang. I don't care because I've spent six weeks thinking something else, thinking that I wasn't enough for you and that you didn't want me and when Sugar told me what really happened, I just–I was just relieved, you know?"

She pulls her eyebrows together, silently pleading for Brittany to get what she means, but Brittany doesn't shift or move and it's so unnerving that she thinks she might need to take a moment to vomit because _fuck__, _she's scared. She's fucking terrified and she's putting her heart on the line and doesn't know what's to come of it.

And because of that, she just keeps nervously rambling.

"And I just needed to tell you now, because if there was even the slightest chance that you might love me back, I needed–I _need_–to know. Because I can't function without you Britt." For what seems like the thousandth time tonight, she lifts her shoulders and drops them heavily, shrugging. "I just don't work right."

Then comes the silence.

The silence Santana was dreading because the moment it comes, the moment she knows it's over. There'd be no hesitation if Brittany loved her back, if she wanted her. There'd be no silence and awkwardness of not replying after a declaration of love, and Santana knows that.

There was just that stupid, naïve part of her that thought it wouldn't come.

And then she looks up, breathing heavily and wondering if this is really happening because it doesn't in the movies. The silence doesn't come in the movies because the main character always gets the girl after a speech like that.

The girl always forgives the main character and then smiles down at them, the screen fading to black and the rest being left for interpretation until one last scene comes up where the couple are together, holding hands and kissing and there's children running around their legs.

That's what happens in movies and Santana's waiting for that part where Brittany smiles down at her, and tells her she forgives her...

...But it never comes.

The realization sucker punches Santana in the gut because she was so sure this would be a happy ending. She'd talked herself into doing it and built herself up for the worst because she was sure there was no way the worst in her mind could actually happen.

Except it is, and Brittany's staring down at her with an unreadable expression and Santana gets it.

Brittany doesn't want her.

Brittany isn't in love with her.

Brittany has someone else now.

And even though her mouth drops open to protest, no words come out. No words come out and even if this did happen in a movie, the main character wouldn't be rendered speechless. They'd know what to say. They would have an epiphany and a burst of truth in which they'd blurt out everything and know exactly what to say...

… But it never comes.

Santana glances up to the bedroom window with tear filled eyes and stares at Brittany, wishing that she'd just do something, do _anything_. She stares and hopes that her staring will do something to change Brittany's mind, and it's a long moment of silence before the blonde girl even begins to move.

But then Santana wishes she didn't wish so hard.

Because Brittany's not throwing a homemade rope created by her bed sheets out the window. She's not preparing herself for a speech in response to Santana.

Instead, she's shaking her head, sucking in her lips and letting the tears flow as she reaches for the latch on the window and pulls it closed. It clicks and Santana's head quirks to the side as her eyes narrow, she can't quite believe this is happening, but Brittany shows no sign of re-opening the movement and shakes her head as she steps back into the darkness of her room and disappears.

And that's it.

* * *

**Okay... I've gotta stop with these cliffhangers. They're ridiculous.**


	25. Part Twenty Two C

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Part Twenty Two C]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** 8.6k

**Notes:** Ahhh this really has been a journey. There will be an epilogue at some point but I just hope you've enjoyed this! Thanks guys for everything, you've been awesome! :)

* * *

The moment the window shuts, Santana dies inside.

She thought—she really fucking thought—that Brittany would forgive her. She thought that coming here, and telling Brittany that she's in love with her would do _something_, fucking _anything_, and yet it's done nothing.

Brittany doesn't love her back. She really has fucked up this time. She's fucked everything up and there's no way she's going to fix it.

She slaps her hand to her forehead and squeezes her eyes shut.

Fuck.

This is the end.

Wiping the tears away from the corner of her eyes, she turns and walks away.

* * *

The second she hears her name, she thinks this is a dream. A really fucking realistic dream that she'll wake up tomorrow morning, in bed with a broken heart and lashing out at anyone because she fucked up. She did and that's something she'll have to live with forever.

But then she registers that she's not dream. That's her name is being called and she spins around to find Brittany running out her front door and straight for her. Her heart damn near jumps straight out her chest and she chokes on the gasp she produces, muscles quivering as she stumbles towards her.

She bursts into tears the moment Brittany's scent hits her and Brittany falls into her only seconds later, hands grabbing at her biceps and heads tilting together as they cry into one another. It's like a dramatic scene from some bullshit angsty romance film, one she'd probably laugh at, but right now she gets why they happen like this.

It's emotional and so painful but so good at the same time. It's so confusing and Santana's skin burns from where Brittany's hand press against her jacket, the warmth sinking through the fabric on onto her, yet it's the best feeling in weeks because she can fucking feel _something_.

They clutch at each others arms and clothing and Santana can feel Brittany's tears on her face as they move closer, their noses squashing together, chins touching and foreheads tilting so hard together it almost hurts. But they're so close. Santana finally has Brittany in her fucking arms and she can't let go, not that they're like this.

"Britt—"

"No," Brittany cuts in, tears streaming down her face and joining in with Santana's. "Please... Santana—I just—need—"

"Don't," Santana gets out through a sob, rolling their foreheads together. "I love you—I just—"

Brittany doesn't even respond, just cups Santana's cheeks and brings their mouths together. She kisses her in a way that makes her head spin and all coherent thoughts shoot straight from her mind, and Santana, overwhelmed with the feel of Brittany's lips on hers after so long without, falters and gasps into Brittany's mouth, squeezing her eyes shut and fisting her clothing, pulling them tighter together.

The kiss is sloppy but so deep. Their lips push into each other and even though there's no tongue, and no teeth, it's so hungry and passionate that Santana almost faints. She can feel the love in Brittany's kiss. She can taste the I miss you that she never heard and the loneliness that's grown inside the blonde for the past five weeks. She can feel it as her palm slips up and presses above Brittany's heart, the beat pounding beneath her skin, their lips parting only for a second before coming right back together and melting together.

They continue to cry and kiss, their lips brushing against each other and wiping away the tears and the sadness, and Santana knows that she doesn't care about the past. She doesn't care and the more and more Brittany kisses her, she knows Brittany doesn't care about it either.

The mere thought makes her heart jump and a gasp bubble from deep within and she pulls back, choking on the sobs and keeping her eyes closed as she sucks in her lips and shakes her head, prepared to say something.

"Don't speak," Brittany gets out first and Santana's eyes flutter at the hoarse sound of Brittany's voice. It always went like that when they kissed for hours and hours, and she can't believe she's hearing it again; hearing it and being near Brittany and holding her and kissing her. _Fuck_.

"I love you," the blonde chokes. "I love you so much and I can't—" she pauses and her hands tighten around Santana's cheek, almost to the point of pain. "I'm sorry—I'm so sorry and I know we're not perfect," she takes in a deep, shaky breath and shakes her head. Santana opens her eyes and finds blue ones staring right back, a whimper escaping her lips because Brittany's here in front of her, talking, apologizing and telling her she loves _her_.

"But I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—have got drunk and it's not—" Brittany sniffles and Santana squashes their nose together tighter, urging her on. "It's not an excuse but I—I just," her eyes bore into brown ones and Santana clenches her jaw, pushing harder into the other girl. "I shouldn't have kissed him but I... You got scared, and so did I. I did and I should have—should have told you, but it was a dare and I—I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to lose you... I didn't want to not have you in my life, Santana. I couldn't, I still can't, I just—"

"No," Santana cuts in. She needs to speak. She needs to say something because this is killing her. Her hand drifts around to Brittany's neck, cupping it whilst the other stays on her cheek, thumb rubbing away the tears that flow. "No, Britt. I love you," she chokes out and blue eyes widen, but she just feels relief. She can't believe she's never said it before. "I'm _so_ in love with you and I don't care what happened." Her head shakes. "I don't care and I've spent the last—" The breath catches in her throat. "I've spent the last six weeks thinking you didn't want me. Thinking you didn't love me... And I—That was just too painful. It was like I couldn't breathe. Like I was missing a piece of myself."

She pulls her hand to her chest, clutching at the space above her heart and pulls away a tiny bit so Brittany can see it.

"It was like someone had ripped out my heart," she gasps, breaking out into sobs at the memory. "It was like I had lost the only thing—the _only_ thing that I'd ever really loved." Her eyes squeeze shut and she leans forward, their noses pressing together and hands coming up to cup both of Brittany's cheeks. "I thought I'd lost you Britt and I... I can't even begin to explain how much I missed you. How much I need you... I just—I love you." She nuzzles further into Brittany, eyes fluttering shut and voice lowering into a whisper. Brittany's hands tangled in the fabric of her t-shirt tighten. "I love you and I don't care what happened. I don't care that you kissed him, I just don't."

Brittany whimpers in front of her, eyes clenched shut and with a small, soft kiss, they open again. It still manages to rip the breath straight from her chest as she stares into them and Brittany grasps her closer, her breath tickling her lips as they sink into one another.

"I love you too," Brittany whispers and Santana shuts her eyes, letting herself feel the words as they sink in.

This all feels too surreal. It's like she's going to wake up tomorrow in her bed, her pillow stained with dried tears and her heart still barely functioning inside of her as she gets ready to head out to a school full of people who hate her. It just doesn't feel real and even though she can very much feel Brittany beneath her palms, breathing into her and pressed up against her, she's scared if she opens her eyes it's going to disappear.

She's not sure she could handle that for a second time. It might just kill her.

"I love you and I don't want anyone else," Brittany continues, voice cracking with sobs and whimpers. "If I could take it back... If I could turn back time—I would." Her head shakes and Santana tightens her grip on her face, pressing closer until their lips brush as Brittany speaks again. "I love you and I need you, Santana. I don't hate you, I can't hate you, I wouldn't want to, and I just... I love you."

She doesn't know how many times they've said those three words but it doesn't matter. Brittany's hand is coming up to her cheek, stroking away with the tears and making her eyes flutter open until she's sure she could fall into those pools of blue. It makes her heart clench and she doesn't quite know how to say what she feels, so she just stares at her until swollen lips quirk up at the side, and a low, chuckle comes from low in Brittany's chest.

It should be weird, but Santana can't help but begin laughing, too. So she does just that and holds Brittany closer because she can now. They laugh, still crying and shake their heads, foreheads rolling against each other as hands wipe away tears that are replaced merely seconds later but it doesn't matter.

"We're so stupid," Brittany manages to get out, but sniffs through a whimper and Santana exhales heavily, fingers trailing down the ledge of Brittany's jaw.

"But we're stupid together," she replies, peeling back to watch as her fingers run over Brittany's brow and down the bridge of her nose, slowing down to trace around her lips. "If you'll still have me."

A soft smile tugs at the corners of those lips. "I'll always have you, but can you forgive _me?_"

"I can't imagine it any other way," Santana lets out through a long exhale and sinks into the kiss Brittany gives her.

They may be stupid, but they're in love.

* * *

The question doesn't even need to be asked, and once the chill in the air gets too much, Brittany steps back and offers out a hand. Santana's heart skips a beat as she glances at her from where she's standing, and she still can't believe she went through all the pain, the anguish, the hurt, just because she didn't give Brittany a chance.

That's probably why she can't believe Brittany's giving her another chance.

Wordlessly, she accepts the offered hand, sliding her palm onto Brittany's and follows as Brittany leads her into the house, pulls her up the stairs and along the landing into her room. They both reluctantly part to undress slowly, shivering from the cool temperature still dusting their skin from outside and slip into bed in just their underwear, curling into each other, hands grabbing at hips and faces, noses squashing and foreheads tipping together again until they're breathing in a cycle; Brittany in, Santana out and so forth.

Their eyes lock and it's like everything's grey around them. Everything just fades and Santana strokes her thumb over the protrusion of Brittany's hip under the covers, taking in everything she can because she never truly worshiped it before. Now that she knows what it's like not to have Brittany, she wants to make every second that she has with her count.

She knows they still have so much to talk about. There are still so many unanswered questions but as Brittany's fingertips trail lines up and down her cheeks, her blue eyes roaming her face and searching it, she falls into her and knows that part can come later.

For now, they are together, and they fall asleep just like that, holding each other close, their hearts even closer.

* * *

When she wakes in the morning, it's to something stroking over her top lip and a curious warmth covering half her body.

She doesn't know what time it is, nor does she care, because she braces herself, ready to wake up to reveal that everything was just a dream, but as her eyes flutter open, her body stirs and wakes further, she finds bright blue staring back down at her and it hits her like a train on the track.

It wasn't a dream.

Brittany's here. Brittany's beside her and staring down at her.

Somehow, everything already feels brighter.

Their eyes meet and something washes over her, melts inside and her arms wrap around Brittany's waist, pulling her until she's on top of her, their bodies as close together as physically possible, pale hands clutching tanned cheeks and tanned hands tracing over the notches of Brittany's spine and down to the dimples on her lower back. She memorizes everything again, feeling the new-old feel of Brittany beneath her fingertips and palms and sighs, tilting her chin and offering out a kiss without even knowing she's doing so.

Brittany catches on, she always has and smiles against her mouth after leaning down. The press of her lips is like is a moment in heaven and Santana's eyelashes flutter, her hands stilling as Brittany's fingers stroke over the hinge of her jaw. The kiss is simple, it's soft but it conveys more words than Santana could come up with and so she keeps the contact for as long as possible, only pulling away when her lungs burn for oxygen.

Then they're close together again, eyes opening and locking and Santana wets her lips, shuddering at the taste of Brittany once more and runs her palms up the other girls rib cage. They stay like that for a long moment, neither of them speaking, but both dwelling in the proximity of each other again.

Santana just wants to stay this close forever.

She's missed seeing Brittany like this, so raw and beautiful. It's painfully amazing and her heart squeezes inside of her as her eyes take in the sight of the other girl. There's never going to be a moment when she doesn't want to stare at Brittany and she can't believe she's _this_ lucky. How can she have been given another chance?

"Stop," Brittany whispers, and Santana's attention is drawn back to the blonde.

"Stop what?"

The back of a long finger smooths over her eyebrow. "You're thinking too much," Brittany murmurs, her blue eyes sparkling as they dart back to dark ones.

Santana shifts, not used to someone being able to read her. She almost forgot anyone could, even though it's only been six weeks.

"We have so much to talk about," she gets out, a thickness coating her throat and eyes flickering away. "I don't want to ruin us again."

Brittany urges herself closer—how that's possible, Santana doesn't know—but she does and Santana sucks in a deep breath at the scent of honey, coconut and vanilla wafting up from pale skin. Oh, how she's missed that.

"I don't want to either, San. I can't," Brittany lifts her shoulder in a small shrug. "I can't and don't want to be without you. I don't function right."

The words make tears prick at Santana's eyelids, but she blinks them back and lets her hands drift to Brittany's shoulder blades, pulling the girl down closer until they're so close all she can see is blue. She breathes in and out deeply twice before replying.

"Me neither, but I don't know how to do this." Her voice lowers into a whisper and the urge to glance away comes to her, but she forces it back. She doesn't want to spend another second not looking at Brittany. "I don't know how to be with someone."

Hands glide over her cheeks and jaw, settling at the curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder. "We'll just learn," Brittany explains, her voice so quiet and breathy, Santana almost doesn't hear.

"I just have to be with you, Britt, even if I don't know how," she manages through the tears threatening to spill. Shit. Why does she want to cry? She's fucking happy for once and yet the tears are still here.

Brittany doesn't even hesitate in pushing forward, their lips melting against each other, bodies too as Santana's hands grip gently at pale skin, tugging her closer until their kiss deepens, tongues pushing past lips and stroking against each other languidly. It's all so new, but not, and Santana feels the first teardrop roll down her cheek as Brittany pulls back, but pecks at her lips, her jaw, her nose, her forehead until there's nowhere that she hasn't kissed.

They gasp, panting hard against each other and Brittany's thighs straddle her hips, her elbows pressing into the mattress but chests still staying as close as possible.

"We are together," Brittany whispers throatily, bumping her nose against Santana's. "We are together and I hate that you're doubting me—"

"I'm not doubting you," Santana cuts in, shaking her head vigorously. "I'm not doubting you, Britt. I love you," she lets her hands around Brittany's body and slip beneath her arms to cup at her cheeks. "I belong where you are, that's the only thing I know, and I just need to know you forgive me." She stares hard into blue eyes and swallows thickly. "I need you to forgive me because I can't endure a world where I don't have you anymore. I've lived it for six weeks, and it almost killed me." The tears begin freely flowing again. "If I could take back what I did—what I should _never_ have done—I would. I would every damn day."

Brittany kisses her hard to get her to stop talking and she sucks in sharply when the blonde pulls away, holding her head steady and gazing straight down at her.

"I forgive you, Santana. I forgive you but you need to forgive _me_." Santana's eyebrows furrow but Brittany shakes her head and presses her thumbs over her lips, stilling her mouth before words can come out. "You weren't the only one to screw up. I did, too, and I shouldn't have. I know I shouldn't but I won't say I'd take it back because I wouldn't."

Santana's head jerks and heart squeezes so tight she winces. Disappointment, sadness and panic seizes through her chest but Brittany shakes her head and nods at the same time, fear flashing across her eyes.

"No, hear me out, please," she begs and Santana gulps, trying not to panic but failing. "I wouldn't take it back because we're here _now_," she presses her hand to Santana's chest, feeling the rapid _thumpthumpthump_ of her heart. "We're here and this will make us stronger. I love you, and you love me and this is only going to strengthen us," she lifts her hand back to cup Santana's face. "_Ugh_, I'm not saying this wrong am I? Do you get what I'm trying to say, San?"

Yes, she does, but she can't manage the words because she's still processing it. Brittany wouldn't take any of it back, because even though both of them suffered, they're here now, they're together and now there's no secrets. There's nothing to tear them apart, they've fully shown each other everything they have and now they've been through the struggle, nothing can tear them apart.

The struggle was hard, harder than anything she's ever experienced, but it's worth it, because now Brittany's here, in her arms.

So she nods and reaches up with both hands, pulling Brittany down and their mouths together. She kisses her once, still nodding into the kiss as she whispers, "I do, baby. I do," until Brittany tangles her hands into dark hair and secures their lips together.

And that's how Santana wants to stay.

And sure, they might have a lot to discuss, they have many things to say and many things to sort out before they can let each other in but that's part of the journey isn't it? Part of being with someone is working towards the picture and hanging on no matter how long or treacherous the way is.

But they have plenty of time for that, so for now, they'll just push it to the back of their minds.

* * *

Well, the plan was pushing it to the back of their minds, but that was before Brittany's mom burst through the door whilst Santana was half on top of Brittany whilst they were kissing and told them flatly to put on some clothes and come downstairs as they all needed to have a discussion about _this_; whatever _'this'_ might be.

And so now it's been brought to the very forefront of their minds and currently, they're both sat downstairs on the sofa next to each other with their hands in their laps and holding back on the urge to reach over and grab a hand to hold. Santana's staring straight ahead, sucking her lips into her mouth and quivering on her spot because she's just waiting for the yelling, the screaming, the shouting and then for the finale, the part where Susan kicks her out.

She can't have Brittany taken away from her after just getting her back.

She just _can't._

"Mom, I—"

"No," Susan cuts Brittany off with a sharp tone and quick slash of her hand through the air.

Santana jerks back a little, itching to hold Brittany but resists, knowing she's already overstepped the line by even acknowledging Brittany's existence, let alone kissed her, told her she loves her and then stepped inside this house and spent the damn night, even if it didn't involve any nudity.

And if she's honest, right now, she's fucking terrified. Her breathing is irregular, chest moving rapidly and mouth dry like the desert, but she still wants to say something. Anger is flashing across faded blue eyes as Susan looks between them, pacing across the living room with her hand cupping her mouth, uncertainty buzzing through her aura.

What is she going to do?

"Brittany," Susan starts, voice low and serious. Brittany gulps beside her, knuckles turning white as she clutches at her other hand. The older woman turns and stops in front of them, still looking between each girl before settling on the blonde one. "For the past six weeks, you've been inconsolable." Santana winces, heart tightening. "You've been crying, you've been having nightmares and honestly, I thought we were going to have to move, to get you away from here."

Brown eyes flicker down in shame. Santana can't even begin to imagine Brittany like that, but she knows that she was the same, too. Maybe that'll make Susan see that they need each other.

If only she could bring herself to say that...

"I've sat by your side for hours and hours, listening to you sob and talk about Santana." Faded blue eyes flicker to said girl. "About how much you love her and how you'd do anything if you could take back what you did." Susan takes in a deep breath before sitting down on the coffee table, hands clasped between her knees. "And how you wish she was by your side, in spite of everything she's done."

Santana's head snaps up toward the older woman, and she tries to figure out what angle the woman's going for. Why is she repeating this? She's talking to Brittany but Brittany already knows this. She _is_ the one who said and did everything after all.

Her eyes narrow but she just keeps listening.

"And now, to find you in bed with the girl who broke your heart," Susan breathes out, shaking her head. "I don't know what to say."

Disappointment seeps from her tone and out the corner of her eye, Santana sees Brittany's brow furrow. She knows she's about to cry and she just wants to hold her, to try and make her feel better.

So she does.

She shifts along the couch, ignoring the way her throat runs dry at how Susan stares at the movement, and wraps an arm around Brittany's waist, her other hand reaching out to rest over Brittany's quaking hands. Almost immediately, the girl leans into the touch, her knees bobbing just that little bit less than before and Santana knows that Susan's seen it.

She just doesn't know what she'll make of it.

"Mom..." Brittany's voice is dry and hoarse. "I know—I know what's happened in the past six weeks." She sucks in a deep, shaky breath and releases one hand, turning it over to grab at Santana's. A sigh threatens to escape her lips, but she bites it back, even if it does feel so damn good after all this time to have Brittany near her again. "I know and I've lived it, and it was the worst time of my life," the blonde explains and wets her quickly drying lips. "But I love her," she shrugs and Santana's heart damn near explodes at hearing those words again. She doesn't think there'll be a time when her body doesn't react like that to that phrase. "I love her and she's here now and she loves me. She's forgiven me, and I've forgiven her, and I know what you've had to put up with, I'm sorry for that, but it's all better now." She squeezes a tanned hand and Santana spares a glance at the older woman, seeing that inscrutable expression back at the gesture. "_We're_ better now."

There's a long, tense moment, and Santana swears to the heavens that her heart is beating so fast she could take off in a moment. And for a second, she almost wishes that'd happen, because she'd grab Brittany and just fly off with her. She'd just fly off and ignore all this judgement and this disappointment that Susan clearly feels toward Brittany for getting back together with Santana. They could just disappear and be together, happy, but she supposes that's just wishful thinking.

Fuck that.

"Brittany... You _can't_ say that," Susan grits out and Santana sees the hardening expression cut at her facial features. "You can't say it's all better after the weeks of pain you've gone through. I've never seen you like that before, I've never seen you in so much pain and to let _her_—" she jabs a finger in Santana's direction "—back in your life just like that? That's just not possible, or fair to yourself for that matter."

Santana bites down on her tongue hard, wishing that this urge, this burning urge to shout and tell Susan how wrong she is, would just go away. She knows that what she did was wrong, she would take it back if she could, but she can't and that's something she and Brittany have to deal with; something _only_ her and Brittany have to deal with. Susan shouldn't even been involved in this, even though yeah, she's had to deal with Brittany's pain, tears and hurt after the past six weeks, but she's her _mother_, it's what mothers do. They look after their kid and respect and love their child no matter what.

And boy, how she wishes she could just say that.

But she doesn't even get a chance to because the second her mind goes to make a decision, there's the sound of locks clicking in the background and someone coming through the front door only moments later with heavy footsteps. Too heavy to be Maddie, and if Susan's here then that means—

Her entire face blanks, stomach dropping as she remembers something.

Well, some_one._

"Britt! Susie! I'm home!"

Santana's entire body tenses, back stiffening and the breath catches in her throat.

Shit. That guy. The one at Brittany's dance recital.

Fuck! How could she have forgotten him?

"Girls? Where are you?"

Her eyebrows scrunch together as she listens to the footsteps move further into the house until she picks up on the breathing behind them. The guy's now standing behind the sofa, and by the sound of it he's taking off his jacket and that's confirmed only seconds later when it's thrown over the arm of the chair to their left.

Then the guy steps around the sofa and comes into view, and Santana sees Brittany look at her curiously as dark eyes slide to the man, narrowing.

"And this is... Santana Lopez, if I remember correctly?"

She doesn't flinch, doesn't move, doesn't breath, just stares at him after he calls her with this hardness she hasn't known. She still doesn't know who this guy is but the way he smiles at Brittany isn't going to change her mind. What is with this guy?

"Yes, this is Santana," Susan confirms monotonously, but then she takes her eyes off her to let her vision drift to the guy standing beside her and Santana actually jerks her head back at the change in her face.

Susan stands, her lips curving up into a small smile and reaches out to him, her hand finding his and their fingers tangling together as she rocks onto the balls of her feet, lips pressing to his cheek. Santana barely makes out the words "hey, honey" whispered into his skin before utter confusion takes over her mind and she's left sitting there, blinking and staring.

What the hell is going on?

"Hey, Dad."

Brittany's voice is a whisper, but it's a little cheerier, and Santana swears she almost passes out as the realization hits her. She chokes, the information lodging into her throat and she pounds her fist into her chest hard to recover. Shit. This guy isn't a potential romance for Brittany, it's her damn dad!

_Fuck!_ How is she so stupid!?

"Hey, sweetie," the guy replies, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead, straightening up and throwing an arm around Susan's shoulders before grinning and tapping his foot. "So anyone wanna tell me what's with the tense atmosphere?"

If it weren't for the sudden slap in the face, Santana would probably laugh at how Brittany's dad is bouncing on the balls of his feet—something she knows has been passed down to Brittany—and how he's trying to make light of this whole situation as Susan glowers but it swiftly turns into a grin as the guy clutches her closer and tells her to stop being such a grump.

Okay, Brittany definitely has more of her dad in her genes.

"These two were caught together in bed this morning," Susan tells after the smile drops from her face. Her eyes fix on Santana and she just gulps heavily, but refuses to break the eye contact. She's stubborn as hell, after all.

"So?" Brittany's dad chirps with a shrug. "They're teenagers, Susie. Let them do what they want."

The older woman pulls back to switch her glare to her husband. "No, Henry," she shakes her head. "They weren't caught _together_ in bed," she turns to look at Brittany again, almost looking embarrassed herself. "Although I think that's where it might have gone had I not walked in," she points out and Santana ducks her head as Brittany's ears turn pink and cheeks follow shortly after. "But they were caught together after I specifically asked Santana not to return here after she _broke _Brittany's heart."

The words are said with purpose, directed to hurt Santana and it works. She has to admit, she wishes it wouldn't but it's just a constant reminder that she's going to have to learn to deal with. This is just the start after all. All those people at school who know way too much about their lives and their problems will be judging from left, right and center. They'll still hate Santana for treating Brittany the way she did, and sure, it's probably reasonable, but they're sorting it out now.

Nothing can be made up with a simple apology but Santana's going to spend however long it takes trying to prove to Brittany that what they have is real, that her love is real.

She just knows other people won't see it the same way.

Why can't they just back out her life for once? Jheeze.

Henry—Santana remembers Brittany's dad is called, and you know, Susan just called him that, too—just looks between all three of them, lingering a little longer on the girls on the sofa before stepping out of his wife's embrace and holding her by the shoulders.

"Look, sweetie, I love you, you know that," he tells Susan who's eyes keep darting to the side as if Santana and Brittany are about to run away now her attention is slightly diverted. "But they're teenagers." He shrugs and Santana almost jumps out her seat at the words. If anything, she thought Brittany's dad would be tougher on her than Susan 'cause of all that 'daddy's little girl' bullshit. Now he's not, she just wants to kiss him. "Shit happens with teenagers and you know the moment you tell them to stay away from each other, the opposite will happen."

Susan continues to glare and Santana bites back a chuckle, glancing toward Brittany to see her do the same thing as their hands come back together on the blonde's lap.

"You know how we were, babe," Henry says, his lips quirking into a smile. "We weren't the perfect couple when we were teens but look at us now." He slides his hands down his arms and grabs her hands at the same time her eyes cloud with a memory Santana knows not of. "We both screwed up back then, didn't we?" Santana's eyes flit toward Brittany who's tilting her head to the side. Okay, she's not the only one getting this. "And we got back together. Sometimes people do stupid things when they're trying to fight what they're feeling." He shrugs again and then the silence settles in again.

And Santana knows this is it.

This is the deciding moment.

This is the moment where if it were a movie, there'd be some dramatic music, building up to a climax and the camera would be zooming in on all their faces, flicking between each one to see how Santana holds her breath, to see how Brittany leans in, to see how Susan's eyes bore into Henry's and how Henry's giving her that 'you know I'm right' look that makes Santana want to smirk.

She knows this is the moment, and the longer it goes on, the more her chest feels lighter.

She can see it, right in front of her. She can see how Susan chews on her bottom lip, how her shoulders seem to sink with every second that passes and how at the very last moment, she completely relaxes, purses her lips and rolls her eyes.

And Santana smiles.

She smiles because that's an acceptance. Maybe not quite a blessing, but it's working its way there which means she and Brittany can be together. It can be easier and they can work through their problems without any outstanding objects blocking their path.

Shit.

This day just keeps getting better and better.

Henry coughs and Santana's broken from her thoughts. Her head twists and eyes snap to the man as her hand clutches Brittany's tighter.

"Santana," he says and she nods, even though she's not sure what that was to. "You love Brittany, right?"

She swallows and wets her lips. "More than words can explain."

Brittany sighs beside her, and she almost squirms at the overwhelming feel of happiness buzzing through her, but chooses to stay focused on the more serious matter at hand. They're not quite off the anger wagon yet so she needs to pay all her attention to saying the right thing. One mistake and she could potentially fuck it up. Again.

"Are you going to hurt her again?"

That question is said a little harder and Santana gulps, almost scared by the darkening of blue eyes.

"No, Sir. Never again. If I could take it back the first time I would. I would turn back time if it were possible."

Henry grins at her babbling and she almost shakes her head at herself. Word vomit is so not the best thing right now.

"And Britt Britt," he lets his vision land on his daughter, his eyes softening and crinkling at the side.

(Santana doesn't know how she thought this guy was anything but her father now; all she can see is Brittany in him.)

(Not to mention his age—he's obviously too old for her.)

(Maybe the anger and pain of thinking Brittany already moved on was shadowing that, though.)

"Do you love Santana?"

Brittany's fingers turn and slide through her own, pulling them tighter into her lap. "Yes, Daddy. I love her."

Inside her chest, Santana's heart almost explodes and she can't help but let her eyes wander toward the girl beside her. God, she's so in love it actually hurts.

"Then that's it," Henry finishes and shrugs, smiling at his wife when she glares. "Susie, stop it." He teases, wrapping her arm around her shoulder again and pulling him into her chest. "Put a smile on that beautiful face of yours."

It seems to break the anger because Susan's face suddenly breaks into a smile, but Santana only sees it for a second before she buries her face into her husband's shoulder, her hand winding around his waist. It's like they're teenagers and she sighs, knowing she possesses that kind of love for someone too, and that someone is sat beside her.

"Now go on girls," Henry moves one hand away from his wife's shoulder and waves it toward the stairs. "I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about."

Santana nods, heart faltering a little but doesn't even hesitate in standing from the couch. Brittany joins her, tugging her toward her father to hug him quickly, pausing to peck her mother on the cheek and whisper "thank you" in her ear too, before skipping to the stairs and dragging Santana up them and into her room.

* * *

"I don't know how to do this."

"Well, San, you just move your mouth like this," Brittany pops her lips open and begins moving her jaw like she's speaking. "And use this bit here," she pokes at Santana's throat, making her squirm and slap her away playfully. "And then the words come and your mouth forms them and there you go! You're talking!"

Santana grins, ducks her head and shakes her head as her hands blindly reach for Brittany's. When she finds them, their fingers lace together and she shuffles closer, their kneecaps now touching. They're sitting upright on the bed, legs crossed, facing each other since apparently this is the appropriate position to which you can have a serious conversation, according to Brittany. Obviously Santana wasn't going to argue, and so she just went with it.

But now she's sitting here, playing with Brittany's hands and fingers, she's not sure how she's supposed to talk about this. She _never_ talks about feelings. That was one of the main reasons why it was so goddamn hard before; she and Brittany never once talked about how they were feeling or what they were, and now if they need to proceed that's what they need to do.

She's never been able to say the right thing though, and the chances of her screwing this up again are pretty damn high and fuck, she really doesn't want that to happen.

"Britt, I just—" the breath lodges in her throat and she coughs it out. "People are gonna judge us. They're going to think we're stupid." She shrugs but Brittany just looks at her. "For getting back together so easily; without hesitation or whatever." Her hands clutch tighter at Brittany's, moving them in a small arc in her lap and she's trying desperately not to look up because she's trying to say what she means without it coming out badly. Now that silence is only there, she's not sure if she's succeeding. It makes her chest seize with panic a little. "It's gonna affect us, and how we are together."

Her eyes flicker up and she takes in a deep, shaky breath, furrowing her brow and feeling the muscles in her face ache from the frown she's showing.

"I don't want everyone bitching at you because you got back with me," she whispers, and means it too.

She knows how high school students can be. Hell, she _is_ one and she knows how she would've reacted back in her pre-Brittany days if she heard the things people have heard about them and then saw them together the next day without a care in the world. She'd judge them, and think they were stupid; even if it was nothing to do with her.

That's just how students are though. They'll never change.

"So what do you wanna do?" Brittany asks, softly and Santana shrinks, exhaling heavily.

"I don't know, Britt, I just... I don't want you to be judged for something I've done." Her thumbs rub over knuckles. "It's not fair."

A hand caresses the side of her cheek, forcing her to stare into clear blue eyes. She licks her lips and listens.

"I don't care if people give us crap, San," Brittany murmurs, eyes fixed on dark ones. "We're together and we can get through it because of that." Her shoulders lift at the same time the corners of her lips do. "We can do this, okay?"

Santana sucks in her bottom lip, chewing it light and leaning into the other girls hand on her face. She considers it, knowing that they can do it but shit, she really wishes there was a way she could click her fingers and no-one would pay them any attention. It's _their_ lives and what happens between them should stay just like that.

She hangs her head and shakes it, trying to regulate her breathing. Why can't everything just be easier?

"Actually, I have a better idea."

Brittany drops tanned hands, her voice tipping in pitch and dark eyebrows scrunch together as Santana watches the blonde girl climb off the bed and stand at the foot of it, smoothing down the (borrowed) sweatshirt she's wearing and the small, duck printed pajama shorts.

Santana moves to get up but a pale hand shoots out, hovering in the air in a 'stop' motion. She slowly slinks back down to the bed, tilting her head and feeling the curiosity grow second by second. What the hell is Brittany doing?

"Britt?" She says, throat a little dry. "What are you—"

"You don't want people to judge us because of what we've done, right?"

Warily, she bobs her head, shifting in her spot. "Yeah..."

"And the only way we can get rid of those stupid people who stick their head in our business is if somehow, we become different people and therefore, have different lives, right?"

Not getting where this is going, Santana jerks her head back, eyes flickering around as if the answer is somewhere hanging in the room, before they finally come back to settle on Brittany. She doesn't want a new life, she still firmly believes in what Brittany was saying about not changing the past because this is where they are now. They're somewhere better, and yet the girl's standing there talking about new lives and forgetting their past. What the hell?

"Britt, I don't wanna forget what we've been through because it's brought us _here_," her palm presses against the comforter covering Brittany's bed. "It's brought us to a better place, together."

"I know." Brittany pokes out her tongue, wetting her lips. "I don't wanna forget either," she agrees, inching forward until the front of her bare legs are firmly pressing against the board at the end of the bed. "But I wanna make those other people forget, and there's only one way to do it."

Dark eyes narrow. "And that is...?"

A grin comes across Brittany's face a split second later, and Santana knows the second she sees it that she's going to go along with whatever plan the other girl has. She's pretty much helpless when it comes to Brittany anyway and now combine it with that grin and sparkling, blue eyes... Well, it speaks for itself really.

With a softer smile and a straightening of her back, Brittany offers out a hand. "My name's Brittany. It's nice to meet you."

It's all too odd and nothing like she was expecting, and Santana's so caught of guard she sort just stares. Her eyes flicker between the pale hand hovering in the air, to blue eyes and then back again. It happens at least four or five times before she forces herself to speak because seriously, what the hell?

"What are you do—"

"I _said_," Brittany cuts in, crawling onto the bed on her knees, keeping the hand out. "My name's Brittany. And this is the part where you introduce yourself."

And then Santana gets it.

There's logic in there somewhere, she's sure, something about them being new people and therefore no-one can judge them because they don't know each other, and it makes her smile. It makes her smile because she knows Brittany loves her, that Brittany wants her and that they're together. She knows it and this is Brittany's plan to make it easier. It's silly, really, because it's not going to work; no-one's going to believe that they both got a sudden case of amnesia or have just forgotten the past, but this is Brittany's way of saying she's going to stick with Santana through all the judgement and the looks.

This is her way of showing Santana that she's going to be by her side for as long as she needs her.

And _shit_, she thought she'd fallen in love with Brittany but now she think's she's going to be forever falling.

Ducking her head, shaking it lightly and letting out a small chuckle, Santana lifts her hand, sliding her palm into Brittany's and grasping it firmly, moving them up and then down again. "Hello, Brittany. My name is Santana. It's nice to meet you, too."

Blue eyes beam, and Brittany's face basically glows with the grin that etches across her face as she drops their clutched hands and scoots back onto the bed, throwing a leg either side of Santana's hips after she stretches out her legs so their chests are pushed together. Hands clutch at hips and shoulders, and one of Brittany's drifts up to stroke her thumb over the edge of Santana's jaw as their eyes lock. She breathes out unsteadily, still shocked that her body still reacts so happily to the other girl's closeness after all this time and smiles.

"I think I'm gonna like you," she whispers, bumping her nose over Brittany's.

Brittany just giggles. "I think I'm gonna like you, too," she responds, raking her hands through dark locks and stopping to cup the back of her skull when her eyes drift down to Santana's lips quickly. "But wait..." she freezes and looks entirely disgruntled by something. "Even though we've just met, can I still kiss you?"

Santana giggles. "If you don't I'm going to have to re-introduce myself and that'd just be weird," she says through a grin, already closing the gap between them.

"Okay, stranger," the other girl whispers and then they're kissing, their lips fitting together softly, and the kiss is so different from the one they had last night. It's not full of sadness, of fear, or of anything either of them have felt in the past six weeks of absence between them. It's not anything but love, adoration and reassuring each other that this is where they want to be; that this is what they want and they're going to do absolutely anything to make sure that happens, no matter who tries to intervene or what people say about them.

"Wait," Brittany suddenly pulls back with scrunched brows and a cocked head. Santana pouts instantly, wanting to keep kissing the girl because it just feels so good to be doing it after all this time. "Isn't the world going to judge us for kissing strangers, though? I mean, I'm pretty sure people don't just do that without judgement."

She actually has a point and Santana's lips quirk up, a soft exhale leaving them as her palms glide around Brittany's hips to the small of her back, already pulling the girl closer and into her lips as she whispers, "Maybe the world just needs to change, then."

"Good," Brittany sighs into the kiss as they fall back to the bed, "I've been waiting for that."

* * *

**The End!**

**That really is the end, too :( but there will be an epilogue! So hang on there and leave a comment to say what you thought if you don't mind :) **

**Thanks guys, you really have been amazing! Been great writing for you! Keep checking up on my profile as I'm surely posting a new G!P Santana fic at some point.**


	26. Epilogue

**Title:** Waiting On The World To Change [Epilogue]  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Length: **10.1k

**Notes: **I know I've been really shitty with this. It's been a long time coming but I've had things to do, as well as a lapse in inspiration and some other bunch of bullshit excuses that I'm not going to elaborate on. Basically, I'm sorry, but thank you for sticking with me and it's been a pleasure to write for the majority of you!

/

Her hands shake as she walks up the path to the Pierce house, dressed in a long, red prom dress.

She can't believe that after everything that's happened this school year, that she's finally here, that they finally got here. She's outside Brittany's house, about to ring on the doorbell and take Brittany—her _girlfriend_—to prom.

Jesus. That feels so good even to _think_.

She runs her palms down the front of her dress, smoothing out the fabric. Her throat is almost painfully dry, and she could really do with a drink right now, preferably alcoholic as it calms the nerves, but anything would suffice. See, for the past three months, she and Brittany have spent almost every waking second together — well, as much as physically possible anyway. Each of the classes they have together they've been stuck like glue, fingers playing with fingers beneath the desk or thighs pressed together; just somehow they've been touching and despite the many glares they received from people in the first month, it's been amazing.

What happened between her and Brittany was like a huge kick to the balls (figuratively, not literally) because it made her think about who she was, about what she needed and most importantly, _who _she needed. It transformed her from a girl into a woman because what happened between them led her to several revelations, and she's learned several important lessons from that time.

Now, she doesn't take Brittany for granted anymore. She doesn't refuse to hold her hand in class, or kiss her goodbye in the hallways. She doesn't stutter when that Jewish kid with the bad ginger fro comes up to her and bugs the crap out of her, wanting to know the latest gossip on 'Brittana' (as they've been dubbed, apparently) and she no longer holds back on the answers about the latest rumors going around about her and Brittany.

Now, she corrects or confirms the rumors. Or even if Brittany's beside her, she'll squeeze her girlfriends hand, swallow the thickness in her throat and receive a kiss on the cheek as she tells everyone—on camera—that she's in love with Brittany Pierce and will be for as long as she'll live. That they're together and plan on keeping it that way for a hell of a long time. Everything she does now is public, and she makes sure to show everyone that she's a changed woman, that Brittany's the reason for that change, and that she now belongs to Brittany in every possible way.

And shit. She can't even begin to describe how fucking happy she is. It's almost kind of pathetic.

Taking in a deep breath, she waits for her heart rate to slow a little—a heart attack before Prom wouldn't be the way to go—and swiftly rings the doorbell, attempting to regulate her breathing as she steps back and waits, her entire body tensing when she hears the sound of locks clicking, a hushed "make sure she's ready" and then feels the light shine upon her as the door swings open. And then Henry Pierce is standing there, grinning down at her and Santana can do nothing but offer a light tipped smile, trying _not _to give away how freaking nervous she is but knowing she's failing miserably.

Seriously. She used to have fucking game. Where the hell did that go?

"You're nervous," Henry says, a statement in opposed to a question, and Santana looks at him, willing herself to deny it but knowing he'll see right through the line.

So instead she just shrugs and gives a sheepish nod. "I am," she admits and Henry's eyes light up as he hears the honesty in her words.

"You've no need to be, darling," he coos back and ushers her into the house, closing the door and opening his arms immediately. "Now come give Papa Pierce a hug," he suggests and Santana smiles as she wraps her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his burly chest.

She sighs against him, inhaling deeply and feeling herself calm down and it's kind of weird because she's sure she shouldn't like a guy she wanted to murder only a few months ago, but here she is, doing just that. Things have been great between him and her, actually; but unfortunately she can't say the same for her and Susan. Brittany's mom isn't exactly warming to her anymore, and Santana admits that yeah, that's fair enough considering what happened, but it's getting more and more tiresome as the months drag on. A girl can only say sorry so much, or try to make it up and it's like Susan's shoving Santana into the apology wheel and making her run and run around in it like a damn hamster even though she's doing her freaking best to make it up to Brittany.

Still though, she's just fed up of Susan hating her, of not letting her and Brittany stay over without being in separate rooms, and especially of those looks Susan sends them whenever she walks in on Santana and Brittany snuggling on the couch; but Santana's going to continue trying to win Susan's affection. If it means she gets to stay with Brittany she'll do anything.

At least Henry likes her though. In fact, he pretty much loves her and fully accepts her, despite knowing all about what transpired between her and his daughter. He himself has dropped several hints about a similar situation between him and Susan and how they got together, but Santana's not one to pry and so she just hopes that he understands her. She thinks he does.

Hell, maybe he was a douche back in high school and made a bet, too.

(Okay, maybe a little too soon for jokes.)

"Sorry," she apologizes in a mumble, pulling out of the hug and staring sheepishly up at him.

Henry frowns down at her, hands sliding to her biceps and gripping as he looks over her dress. "You have no need to apologize, Santana," he says and meets her eye. "And you look gorgeous. Brittany's a lucky girl," he winks.

Santana smiles gratefully, but feels like she needs to correct that sentence. "No, Sir," she shakes her head and inhales shakily. "_I'm _the lucky one. Trust me." His eyes glimmer and she knows she said the right thing, but it's the truth so she wouldn't have said any different and so she smiles and looks toward the stairs, eyes sliding back to him. "Is Brittany ready?"

Henry steps away, tapping her on the nose and winking. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Henry?" He says, making his way to the bottom of the stairs. "And she's ready, Santana," he pauses and pinches his lips up at the side, eyes narrowing slightly but playfully. "But are you?"

She doesn't really get what he means, but she sees the glaze in his eyes and knows with that, that Brittany's going to be breathtaking. So she sucks in a deep breath, maybe the last one she'll have as Brittany will probably rip the breath straight from her lungs, and braces herself as Susan glides down the stairs first, wiping at the corner of her eyes and sending Santana a brief half-assed smile in lieu of a greeting, before turning and glancing up the stairs, staring intently as Brittany slowly comes into view.

And then she can imagine all the movie effects coming in right now, if they were in one, where smooth music would play in the background, the camera would slowly pan up Brittany's legs, revealing her inch by inch until it finally settles on her face, beaming and glowing with happiness as her eyes lock with Santana's. The music would die down and the camera would flick back to Santana to reveal the utter awe on her face, and then they would step toward each other and stare, breathlessly, into each others eyes, butterflies turning and twisting inside her stomach.

Except it doesn't happen like that, because Santana's so damn nervous and so focused on the fact that they made it here that she misses the majority of it. She misses the way Brittany takes each step at the time, the way her palm glides down the banister the further she descends and the way Susan bursts into tears the second the entire vision of Brittany is revealed.

She misses most of it, despite her eyes being solely focused on Brittany walking down the stairs because her mind is so caught up with future visions of similar situations that it actually makes the breath catch in her throat. She coughs to clear it and waits as Brittany's ballerina flats meet the carpet, sucking in her lips and twirling from side to side nervously as she waits for Santana to react.

And it takes a few moments for Santana to kick start her brain because _fuck_, she was right; Brittany's just taken her breath away.

She's wearing a simple strapless white dress, cut off just above the knee. It flows out from around the middle, and tightens around the bust and Santana's mind blanks as her eyes flit over every inch of Brittany in front of her as she steps forward, the butterflies going a mile a minute inside of her now that Brittany's close enough to hold. She closes her eyes as Brittany's perfume fills her head and smiles to herself when she opens them to find blue eyes gazing straight back at her and honestly, she doesn't have a damn clue how she got this lucky.

All of that's supposed to come out too, after a greeting, but she doesn't even get as far as saying "hey" because "wow" comes out instead and Santana all about dies from how hard she's blushing. Seriously, she really was trying to be smooth and a second of being in Brittany's presence and that's failed. She really doesn't have any game.

The lightest and most refreshing of giggles comes from Brittany's lips and Santana meets blue, finding the equal amount of excitement lingering behind them as her hand reaches out, sliding down a pale arm until her fingertips glide over a smooth palm and finally find gaps that she can slide through. Brittany takes the lead from there, knowing Santana's in her own little world, and tugs her closer until their faces are merely inches away, noses even closer. Santana breathes out unsteadily, shakily, and revels in the way everything around them seems to blur when they're staring into each others eyes. It almost feels too good to be true.

"You look beautiful," Brittany whispers and Santana licks her lips, wanting nothing more than to slide her hand up to her girlfriend's face and coax her into a kiss; but there are parents around and God only knows with the pace they've been going for the last few months, the moment their lips touch, both of them will want more and that's definitely inappropriate.

"You too," she responds instead, but her words sound a lot more like "you're better" and Brittany's lips curve up further as she gets it. "Are you ready to go?"

"Ladies," Henry interrupts, touching Brittany's shoulder and holding his spare hand up in the air, grasping something. "Susie and I would like a picture of you two first, actually."

Santana's eyes bulge at the suggestion and her head turns to her girlfriend as they slowly part, but still keep contact as Santana slides her arm around her waist. Despite being used to the attention, she's never really been a 'picture' person. Brittany says she's like, the most photogenic person, but photos always freak her out a little. There's no real reason why, but she's just not a fan of them.

"Santana doesn't like photos, daddy."

Henry's eyes slide to her quizzically and Santana just looks to her girlfriend, suddenly seeing the sadness behind that statement shade in blue. Well, fuck that. This prom is their only prom and she's going to make sure it's the best damn prom ever. Especially considering she never thought she'd be lucky enough to be able to go to prom with her dream girl.

"No," she cuts in, lifting her head and taking in a breath. Blue eyes flicker to her, full of confusion. "Can you take a few pictures of us, please? I wanna put some on my wall."

Brittany ducks her head to speak into Santana's ear, her lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Babe, you don't have to."

She turns, their faces now incredibly close and for a few seconds, Santana forgets how to breathe due to the proximity of her girlfriend but she promptly shakes it off. Parents around. Right.

"I want to," she whispers, unable to prevent the way her eyes dart down to Brittany's lips. "I want to remember this."

Not wanting to freak Brittany out, she purposely leaves out what she really wants to say. _It'll go on our coffee table when we live together._

Fair eyebrows knit together as blue eyes search dark ones. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Santana fires back without a seconds hesitation, smiling and ignoring the way Brittany's perfume's filling her head. "Come on," she emphasizes with a squeeze of her girlfriend's hip and then twists again, facing Henry and Susan who're staring at them; Henry's eyes soft and head slightly tilted and Susan's eyes almost similar, except she looks like she's trying to fight accepting how cute Santana and Brittany are together. "Can you take a picture, please?"

Henry's face split into a grin and he steps forward, urging the girls closer together with a wave of his free hand until they're hip to hip, arms wound around each others waist. The flash goes off and Santana blinks after, seeing the weird little pattern on the inside of her eyelids before she scrunches her nose at the image on screen as Henry shows them. It looks too posed, and Santana narrows her eyes, chews the inside of her lip before nodding at him again, silently asking for another picture which Henry's only too happy to take.

This time, she turns their bodies so their fronts are facing each other and they both turn their heads to the camera, but the second the flash goes off, Santana knows she doesn't like it already. She and Brittany aren't the posed kind of people who need to position themselves to look like they're in love. She just doesn't get that because they don't do this picture thing; unless it's a spontaneous one taken when Brittany's asleep (for Santana to stare at when they're not together) or when they're in bed together after spending the night cuddled together.

In their time together, they've had like, two pictures taken as a couple, one of them decent at the other one blurred (result of Brittany convincing Santana into taking one, but Santana backing away at the last minute and knocking the camera out of Brittany's hand) and Santana clenches her jaw now, cursing herself for not knowing how to take a picture with a girlfriend.

Sometimes she really does hate her freaking past.

But when Henry raises the camera again and tells them 'third time lucky', Santana turns her head to look at Brittany and realizes they don't need to pose. They don't need to position themselves to look like they're in love and a couple because that's _exactly _what they are. They're in love, despite the broken hearts, the stupid rumors and the weeks of wasted time being spent apart, thinking that they weren't meant to be and really, that was just really stupid because as Santana stands here, she can be one hundred percent confident in saying that she honestly believes she and Brittany are soul mates. That somewhere along the line, fate laid a hand and brought them together.

Even with everything that's happened between them, fate lead them to each other because that's just made them stronger. That's made them truly value what they have and for the first time in months, Santana realizes that this girl, that this _angel, _is actually hers and there's no way in hell she's going to waste this moment and end up with a pathetically posed picture. She's going for the real thing. She's going to show their _real _love.

And so when Henry urges them to shuffle together, Santana completely blanks out on that in favor of staring at her girlfriend and when Henry begins to countdown, Santana does the only thing she can think of and slides her hand up to Brittany's cheek, waiting for her head to turn and eyes to meet hers before she leans in, pressing their lips together and smiling against Brittany's mouth at the same time the flash goes off. She kisses her and exhales through her nose when Brittany shifts forward, winding her arms around Santana's waist and linking her hands at the small of her back and just lets herself feel.

Santana breaks first, knowing she could just kiss Brittany all night and they actually have a prom to get to, but keeps close and rests their foreheads together, letting her and Brittany breathe in a cycle, Brittany in, Santana out and so forth. Their noses squash together and she closes her eyes, hearing another click and seeing a brief flash behind her eyelids before she remembers that there's actually parents in the room and that makes her reel back immediately and smile sheepishly at Susan whose eyes are more narrowed than before.

That woman is _never _going to like her.

"You girls!" Henry almost screeches like an excited mother would. "You're gorgeous," he continues, eying Santana and Brittany and holding out the camera to show them the picture and well, Santana damn near cries at it. _That's _how in love she is now and it's sort of pathetic but whatever. She's happy. "But you really should be going."

He steps behind them and presses a hand to both their backs after they tangle their fingers together, urging them out the door. Santana just goes with it, smiling back at them as she stumbles a little over the threshold, flushing with embarrassment when Brittany giggles from behind her as they make their way to Santana's car. They both turn to wave one final time to the Pierce's before Santana stands by her BMW, holding open the door for Brittany and bowing her head as her girlfriend slides into the seat; and she totally knows by the sound of Henry's light squealing that Susan saw that, and has probably just gained a brownie point for that.

But anyway, she walks around to the drivers side and steps in, hitching up her dress a little as she swoops down to the seat and shuts the door beside her, turning to her girlfriend when they're finally alone and the only sound between them is that of breathing. And Santana takes this moment to look over her girlfriend again, take in the white dress covering her perfect body and she really does think that Brittany looks like an angel. Her hair's in loose curls around her shoulders, her make-up light but she still looks like something off the front of a damn magazine and really, Santana could probably cry at how beautiful Brittany is.

"You really do look amazing tonight," she breathes and Brittany, who's already looking at her, ducks her head bashfully, her eyes flicking up through thick lashes.

"So do you," she whispers, shyly, reaching across the console to take Santana's hand.

Santana just flushes at the contact, almost wanting to laugh at herself because she's so pathetically in love now that she gets all hot under the collar just by Brittany holding her damn hand. Seriously, it's so pathetic but she guesses this is just what happens when you find someone like Brittany; you turn into a big ol' pile of sap.

"Okay," she finally breathes, taking her hand away from beneath Brittany's and moving to switch on the car. If she hadn't removed contact, they'd probably just stay in this damn car all night. "Let's get going."

Brittany looks at her, smiles. "Let's," she echoes and Santana just melts at the look in Brittany's eyes.

Still, Santana reverses out the driveway and barely gets a hundred yards down the road before reaching over the center console again to reclaim her girlfriends hand.

/

Prom is amazing.

Santana never thought she'd go to prom with all these people that know what she's done wrong and actually enjoy herself, yet here she is, dancing with her girlfriend and pulling her close, mouthing along with the words to a Neon Trees song coming from the DJ at the front. Brittany's friends—and consequentially Santana's friends now—are surrounding them, either dancing, or snacking, or even just standing and talking.

Like Quinn; after the whole argument thing and reveal, she and Rachel decided to give it a go. They've been taking it steady apparently, and even though usually Santana would make a crack at how 1950's that sounds, she understands the lack of trust between them and kind of feels bad for their situation. It wasn't her fault, but she didn't exactly help in the situation until the very end, and so she kept her mouth shut and just let them do their thing. Tonight, they didn't turn up with each other as dates, but they've been together for the majority of the night and Santana was talking to Quinn when Rachel walked in, and was witness to the glossy look in her eyes as their eyes met from across the room; and there's no way in hell it's going badly over there, so as far as she's concerned they're good.

Sugar's here with Puck, strangely enough, and they're by the snack table, munching on a few pieces of food over there. They have a strange lustful look in their eyes as they speak, but Santana knows that since they hooked up a few weeks back, rumor has it that Puck, the former womanizer, has been tamed. Apparently he and Sugar are secretly dating, and Santana only knows that after Sugar got a little drunk a few weeks back at one of Puck's parties and let the information loose. But she's decided to keep it quiet as Sugar probably doesn't want everyone on her back about dating the school's sex shark.

(Santana knows Brittany got shit about it when they first got together and she wouldn't want it to happen to Sugar, either.)

Then there's Mike Chang who's here with the other Chang—_Tina_, Santana thinks—and they all shared a brief greeting earlier on but Santana couldn't focus on anything else apart from the slight trembling in Mike's stance as Santana met his eye. She's getting the impression that he's still terrified of her, and she's sort of enjoying it so she's not going to tell him that she's not angry at him at all, and never has been. Plus, he and Girl Chang are actually pretty cute together, in spite of the slight chance that they're actually related, so she's not going to ruin that either. Too many hearts have been broken this school term and she's not prepared to be involved with any more of them doing so.

But yeah, everyone looks gorgeous and it seems everyone's having the time of their lives and if she's honest, she kind of is, too. Especially with the most amazing girl in her arms and an incredible amount of love in her heart; she can't really complain.

"What are you thinking about?"

Santana blinks herself out her thoughts, turning her attention back to her girlfriend. "Nothing, baby," she breathes, tipping their foreheads together and staring into deep, blue eyes. "I'm just really happy."

Brittany's smile is soft and loving, and she tilts her head, pressing her lips to Santana's as they sway to the slow song playing overhead. "Me too," she whispers against her mouth as they let their eyes meet once more.

And yep, Santana really can't complain.

/

It gets to midnight and Principal Figgin's goes up on to the stage, telling everyone that it's time to go home or do whatever and so everyone makes their way out. Santana takes off her heels, the pain in them now a dull ache as she pads out with Brittany's hands in hers to the parking lot and pouts when she looks to her girlfriend and finds her taller than her now. For the entire night, they've been the same height as Brittany chose to wear ballet flats and Santana was wearing heels, and now it kind of sucks.

"Don't pout," Brittany says, poking the tip of her finger to the protruding flesh of Santana's bottom lip. "If the wind changes you'll get stuck like that."

Santana chuckles, her face shifting into a smile immediately and she pulls them to a stop in a secluded spot, across the lot from anyone else, her heels swinging in her right hand. "But you'd still love me right? Even if I had a permanent pout?"

"Obviously," the blonde draws out and shifts forward, pressing their bodies together as she ducks her head, ready to kiss Santana.

But obviously, before they can kiss, they have to be interrupted and Santana whips her head around, eyes narrowing into a glare as Brittany falls forward, her forehead resting against Santana's temple, hot breaths warm against the curve of her jaw. She glares at her intruding friend, suddenly wanting to smack her because it was pretty obvious they were about to kiss, but Quinn just smiles as she continues coming over to them, a skip in her step as Berry trails behind her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear apologetically. Santana barely offers a smile in return.

"You two coming to mine?" Quinn asks, her eyes flickering to the left as Rachel sidles up to her left, a little too close to be 'just friends.' "Got some alcohol and a party goin' down."

Santana just looks to Brittany though, trying to figure out a way to say that she's already made plans for them without ruining it, but Brittany's smiling down at her and she squints herself, wondering whether Brittany can read her mind because it seems the blonde already senses what she's about to say and says it herself.

"We've actually got other plans," Brittany informs Quinn, glancing back to her and squeezing Santana's hand and Santana just nods along dumbly, still unaware how Brittany knew they had other plans. "But you guys have fun. We'll see you on Monday, okay?"

Quinn grins, her eyes flitting to Santana and a smirk briefly flashing across her features, but then she nods strongly and reaches back, boldly taking Rachel's hand and leading her off. "Will do," she says, throwing a wink over her shoulder as they walk away. "You two have fun, too."

Santana shoots her a half-glare, half-smile but quickly shifts it into a happy expression as blue eyes return to her, but she's still rendered quizzical and as they make their way toward her car, she just has to ask, "How did you know we weren't going to the party?"

"Just an inkling," the blonde says with a shrug. "Plus, if you hadn't had something planned then I would've."

Santana stops, both of them by the passenger side of her car now and she looks at her girlfriend, eyebrows furrowing. "Do you have something planned then?"

"Do you?"

She grins, shaking her head and looking away from her girlfriend. "Britt," she whines, squeezing her hand. "You know I do but now I feel bad if you have something planned, too," she elaborates, tilting her head back up and glancing through long lashes.

"Then it's good that I don't," Brittany replies with excitement in her tone, but Santana just gets confused.

"Then how did you know to tell Qu—"

Brittany steps closer, quickly leaning down and kissing Santana to shut her up. It totally works, and even though it's short and sweet, just the press of lips on lips, when the blonde pulls away, Santana begins smiling like a total idiot.

"I just knew you'd have something planned," the blonde says, kissing her once more before releasing their hands and gesturing to the passenger door. "Now are you gonna open the door for me or am I going to have to do it myself?" She jokes, winking in a way that makes Santana's face flush. Dammnit. She really needs to stop doing that.

"Of course," she says, rushing to Brittany's side. "How ever are you gon' forgive me ma'am?"

Her voice tinges with a Texan accent as she swings open the door, offering a hand to her girlfriend who takes it, using it to help her climb into the car.

"I just don't know," Brittany says as she smooths down the sides of her dress, but then something in her expression turns lustful and Santana's face drops from the amusement it once held, taking note of the seductive glare now being thrown her way. "Maybe if you hurry up and get in the car, you could make it up for me tonight?"

And within two seconds, Santana's shutting the door, sprinting around to the drivers door and chucking her heels in the backseat as she slides into her seat; and Brittany just giggles next to her, stretching her torso over the center console to plant a kiss upon Santana's dark red cheek which turns darker beneath the touch.

Then she starts the car and drives off, her heart pounding against her rib cage and her thighs pinching together with anticipation.

/

They arrive at Santana's planned destination around forty-five minutes later, the tires of the car crunching over the gravel of the drive before Santana pulls up in front of the Lopez cabin by the lake. She switches the ignition off, but suddenly feels a wave of nervous nausea as she stares at it; and really, it's stupid because there's no real reason for her to be nervous. She's been with Brittany for so long now, and they've already had sex so many times that Santana can't really count with her hands. But this just feels different.

This time it means something different. Something more. This time there's broken strings that have been repaired and she's got to take them into careful consideration. She can't just go ahead and be the old Santana Lopez, and honestly, she doesn't want to. Like she said, they've had sex before, but all of those times didn't mean half as much as this time will. This time, they've waited and built up months of intimacy without physical touch. This time, she wants to show Brittany the new-found respect and love for their relationship, and so she supposes that okay, maybe that _is _a reason why she should be nervous.

Tonight's a big night. A really big night.

"Are you okay, babe?" Brittany asks, tenderly stroking her thumb over the back of Santana's that she's still holding.

Santana sucks in a deep, shaky breath and wipes her free palm down her dress, removing the sweat building upon it. "Yeah," she replies, throwing in a nod and putting a smile on her face. "Shall we go in?"

The smile on Brittany's face is reassuring and soft, and Santana takes a moment to let it sink in, along with the knowledge that Brittany loves her, and suddenly, she's not so nervous. She glances back to the house, knowing that they're going to be in there in a moment and feels nothing but excitement anymore.

"Yeah." She moves her gaze back to Brittany and feels her heart soar at the love staring back at her. "Let's go in."

Brittany just grins in reply and Santana falls even deeper in love.

/

It's old, it's rickety, it's on the smaller side, but they don't need much.

They start out by walking in, Santana pulling open the door and allowing Brittany to step inside first and she just watches her girl—_admires_ her girl—in all that she is as she breezes in, her eyes taking in the string of fairy lights across the back wall, and the candle lights darted around various flat surfaces, giving the room light without the need for electricity. It's something of beauty, watching someone you love look at something you've given them, and Santana finds herself smiling as she leans against the door, watching Brittany because in this moment, she's one hundred sure she's going to be with this girl for the rest of her life.

Right now, in this moment, Santana Lopez one hundred percent sure that she's going to marry Brittany Pierce.

The thought sends the good kind of shivers up her spine.

"It's amazing," Brittany breathes and Santana's eyes flutter open—when they shut, she isn't sure—to find her girlfriend before her, staring at her with the brightest of blues. It rips the breath straight from her chest and she closes the gap between them, one hand sliding around to the nape of Brittany's neck whilst the other rests on her hip, pulling her close enough to kiss.

Brittany's lips are still sweeter than she could've ever thought, softer too, and she can't help but push harder into the kiss as Brittany's hands come up to her jaw, framing it, cradling it so delicately the touch might not even be there. The heels she's wearing—or rather put back on—give her the height advantage and she smiles against her girlfriend's mouth, running her tongue along Brittany's lips until they opens, where she quickly dips in and flicks it against the roof of Brittany's mouth.

It earns the most delicious of moans and as the hands on her face drift back, fingers now twisting around strands of dark hair, she realizes that it wasn't supposed to go this fast. They were supposed to go out to the dock, sit on the edge with their shoes off and sip on expensive champagne as they talked into the early hours of the morning. They were supposed to have the romance, not just the passion, and Santana breaks the kiss unwillingly, panting hard as she opens her eyes to look into Brittany's, needing to tell her this.

"Champagne," is all that comes out though, and she blurts it, suddenly cursing herself for not being able to recollect her thoughts after kissing Brittany. Her mind's always a bit messy and muddled after kissing Brittany.

Brittany giggles, the sound a little lower than usual and Santana reels back a little further to find a darkness in blue eyes that wasn't there before.

"Are you offering or calling me that?" The blonde asks, lifting an eyebrow. "Because that sounds like a strippers name."

There's definitely some logic lingering in there somewhere, and Santana can't help but laugh back as she squeezes Brittany's waist lightly, her other hand sliding down to rest upon the protrusion of her girlfriend's collarbone. "No, babe. I was offering," she says but then thinks she might as well carry on now they're not kissing. "And I had plans for us to drink champagne down by the dock," she adds sheepishly, suddenly realizing that the suggestion was a little corny.

"We can do that," Brittany says, stroking her thumbs over tanned cheeks. "It's your decision."

Santana's brow furrow quickly, her head shaking. "No, it's yours, too. We both decide."

A loving smile is shot her way but then Brittany's hands drops and a sting of rejection shoots through Santana. She didn't think it was going to go _that _way just yet, but she thought since they just had some pretty intense make out session that it might. But she's cool with whatever. All she wants is Brittany. In _any _capacity. Whether that's snuggling on the dock with a bottle of champagne dangling from her hand or panting heavily against each others mouths as they rock their way toward their orgasms. She just doesn't care, as long as she's with Brittany.

"Well... I was," Brittany pauses and wets her lips, ducking her chin to her chest before gingerly looking up through her lashes. "Can we do the champagne thing... _after?_" She breathes the last word, biting down on her lip now to show the anxiety present. "I mean, if you wanted to do it now we can but I mean—"

Santana cuts her off with a kiss, her hand cupping her jaw and body shifting forward until they're entirely pressed together. Heat spreads across her skin, scorching and she stumbles forward, pulling her girlfriend even closer until they're pressed up against the back wall, the lights dipping low above them. A moan vibrates against her lips and she makes one in response, her hands clutching tightly against the fabric of Brittany's breasts, feeling her chest rise and fall against her own, feeling Brittany's hips roll into hers as she pushes back, the bulge beneath her tight confinement boxers aching to spring free and gain more friction.

It seems Brittany has the same idea because she rocks her hips forward even further, her hands making a downward path along Santana's spine until they slide over the curve of her ass and down to the hem of her dress. The intimacy of the bold movement steals her breath; she hasn't had it for so long, hasn't had Brittany like this for so long and now it's shocking to the touch, but she still manages to jump on the band wagon and go with the flow, her body moving back as Brittany tugs the material up and throws it behind them, pale hands instantly grabbing for her again to rejoin their lips.

The fabric of Brittany's dress irritates Santana's skin, or rather the thought of Santana standing in underwear whilst Brittany's still fully dressed irritates _Santana_, and so she breaks the kiss, trailing open-mouthed ones down Brittany's jaw and neck whilst her hands slide around her girlfriends waist and up, finding the zipper of her dress. Two fingers pinch the top of it, and she pokes out her tongue, licking a line up the expanse of Brittany's neck as she drags the zipper down, Brittany's breath getting harder and heavier as she goes.

And then as Santana reaches the end of the zipper, she pulls her lips into her mouth and backs away, her eyes taking in the sight of the most amazing body in the world as the dress falls from it. The fabric pools around Brittany's feet and Santana gasps, the tips of her fingers immediately tracing over Brittany's skin, down the dip in her abs and around the swirl of her belly button. She worships her with her fingertips, with her eyes and lets her palms flutter over soft, smooth skin. She can't quite believe how something this perfect is hers.

But then a hand covers her own, stilling the movement and she looks up, suddenly fearing she's done something wrong but blue eyes are shining back at her, a flash of concern barely visible in them.

"Stop worrying, honey," the blonde whispers, her chest heaving up and down. "It's just us."

There's a wild pounding in her chest and she holds on to her girlfriend, taking in steadying breaths. "I'm not worrying," she manages to get out, her eyes nervously flitting down before coming back up again. "I'm just... I'm nervous."

The last thing she expects is for Brittany to giggle, and she's about to pout at it when hands cup her cheeks and bring her into a deep kiss. Brittany's tongue slides into her mouth, taking advantage of the surprised gasp that comes from Santana and strokes hotly over her own, sucking all the oxygen from her lungs. But suddenly Brittany pulls back again, breaking the kiss with a wet pop and Santana blinks, trying to force herself back to reality as her vision focuses back on her girlfriend.

And then she notices the serious look on Brittany's face, the nervous but aroused one and she can tell what's coming.

"San..." Brittany moans breathlessly, her arms wrapping around Santana's neck, their bodies pressing flush against each other and noses squashing. "San, I—"

"Do you want to?" Santana pants, interjecting the blondes words. She's just too nervous, too excited, too eager for this.

Blue eyes meet hers, everything suddenly blurring around them and Santana winds her arms around Brittany's waist as the blonde nods and whispers, "I want to," into her lips before kissing her again, a little harder this time.

Santana's only too eager to respond, pressing into the kiss as their hips begin rocking against each other, somehow simultaneously managing to pull Brittany even closer as they gasp into each others mouths. Soft hands slowly drops from around her neck, sliding down her shoulders and she mirrors it, unclasping her girlfriend's bra at the same time it's done to hers and she moves back reluctantly, allowing the peel the bra away from Brittany's shoulders. The same is done to her own and it's almost painful how hard she is now, pressing up against the tight, tight fabric of her underwear.

Her kisses move down from swollen lips to smooth, pale skin and she bites down on the junction between Brittany's neck and shoulder, a leg raising and curling around her hip. It catches her a little off guard seeing as her co-ordination seems to have fallen off track, but she quickly comes back, dropping one hand and curling it beneath Brittany's thigh as the rocking of their hips intensifies. Heat and arousal spreads within her, the rise and fall of her chest quickening as she pushes into Brittany, the arms around her neck tightening as moans tumble from the blondes mouth and shit, she's beyond the point of being turned on now.

"San... San I need—I... I need more."

Santana pulls her head back, bringing their mouths back together as her free hand slides into blonde hair and she kisses her firmly before pulling away, panting heavily and letting her gaze roam hungrily over her girlfriend. Her hands itch to reach out, to touch Brittany, but she knows once she gets into that mindset, she won't be able to think of something else and so she needs to deal with that first.

So twisting around, she heads to the little bag stashed away in the closet—one she brought over earlier in the day—and rummages through it, tearing open a box buried within it and grabbing a single condom, curling her fingers around it once it's settled in the palm of her hand. Her heart leaps at the thought of using it, images flashing through her mind of previous times and she takes in a deep breath before turning around once more...

…Though the image she's greeted with makes her eyes bulge, breath stop and body still because Brittany's standing there completely naked, her panties now beside her feet as she crosses her arms over her body, her arm strategically placed to cover the most intimate part of her whilst her other arm covers her nipples.

And _damn, _is Brittany hot.

The air intensifies in that second and Santana fumbles around, almost dropping the condom as she tries to get a hold of her bearings, her pound now deafeningly loud in her ears. But she finally gets there, choking out indecipherable words and stuttering strange noises as her face prickles with heat. Seriously though, why the fuck is she speechless?

She knows Brittany's beautiful. She's seen her naked before, yet here Santana is, being rendered speechless.

Brittany just giggles throatily—_naughtily_—though and moves toward Santana, her fingers tucking beneath the tight confinement boxers to pull her forward before she urges them down Santana's thigh, allowing her throbbing erection to spring free. A long but quick exhale pushes passed her lips at the release, and she closes her eyes as Brittany ducks, pressing kisses down her thighs as she lowers the boxers down, picking up each of Santana's ankles to get her to step out of them.

Then it's bare skin against bare skin as Brittany stands and closes the distance between their bodies, and the touch makes Santana's hips jerks because okay, maybe her left hand has been her best friend for the past couple of months, but no amount of personal touching could come close to Brittany touching her. Nothing _ever _could come close to Brittany touching her, and even though she's not even wrapped those long fingers around her member yet, the fact that her _skin _is touching her is almost driving her over the edge.

Still though, she needs to keep a straight head on for this, so to speak. She needs to keep focused because there's no way there second first time is going to last less than a minute. She needs to keep her stamina up, and she knows that's ridiculous to think that's going to happen because with Brittany, her stamina has _always _taken a hit, but she'll be damned if she doesn't try.

So she starts out slow, her lips moving up from Brittany's collarbone, to her neck, along her jaw and finally to her mouth whilst her hand slides between them, caressing over the soft skin of Brittany's abdomen before she shifts and slide down her. Brittany's jaw drops open the second the pads of Santana's fingers roll over her clit, and her hands snap to tanned shoulders, short nails digging gently into the skin there because Santana's not the only one who hasn't had sex in months — that's another point why Santana needs to make this amazing.

They kiss deeply as Santana begins making small, slow circles with her fingers, enjoying the low moans that vibrate against her lips and the way Brittany's hips keep jerking up into her hand. Her tongue strokes inside Brittany's mouth, picking up a rhythm with her fingers and the nails dig deeper into her shoulders until they have to break to suck in more oxygen, but then it seems Brittany can't wait any longer because one of her hand drops, grabbing at Santana's on her hip and pulling it back to take the packet from between her fingers.

From then on it's a little blurry, but the next thing Santana knows, nimble fingers finish rolling a condom over her throbbing shaft and she's bending slightly, sliding her hands around Brittany's thighs whilst her lips paint wet open-mouthed kisses along Brittany's neck, and lifting the blonde girl up, using the wall to support some of the weight as long legs loop around her waist. The tip of her dick collides gently with Brittany's clit, and she throws her head back, letting out a loud moan as the stimulation continues, her lips nipping gently over pale skin.

"San," Brittany moans, rolling her body in a slow and methodical way that makes Santana's entire body quake. She brings back her head, rocking herself into her girlfriend and finds Brittany staring back at her through dark, half-lidded eyes, full of lust and affection. _"Please."_

It's all she knows, and despite being full of hunger for Brittany, full of confidence just a few moments ago, she's suddenly nervous again as Brittany reaches between them, taking Santana into her palm, her warm fingers wrapping around her in a firm but gentle fist. She strokes up and down a few times, moving her fist from the base to the very tip, squeezing methodically and Santana tries not to lose it right then and there as Brittany tilts her cock, running the head of her shaft through slick flesh.

And fuck, if they don't get down soon, Santana's totally going to ruin the night.

"Britt—"

"I got you," Brittany whispers as she leans into Santana's ear, her voice infuriatingly gentle and Santana's mouth drops open to say something, but then Brittany's poising the tip a little lower and wraps her free hand around Santana's neck, muttering a hushed, "Please," against her ear.

Taking a deep breath in, she does as requested and pushes inside Brittany, groaning at the tight, resistant walls that greet her. It's hot, almost too hot and her eyes roll into the back of her head as Brittany shudders beneath her, her groans growing the more Santana slides into her. She can feel her face contorts with pleasure and bites down on her lip, her head falling forward and forehead resting against Brittany's chin as she's entirely hugged from base to tip by this incredible, slick warmth.

"_Fuck,_" she marvels, looking down between them to see everything she feels. It only heightens the arousal and she lets Brittany stretch to accommodate her, lets her get comfortable before she rolls her hips experimentally, earning the most delightful sound known to her ears. Brittany moans loudly, her hand tightening around the nape of Santana's neck and her other hand comes up to tangle through her hair, holding her steady as their bodies begin to jostle with the movement, Santana thrusting her hips steadily to create a pace.

The tightness is almost unbelievable. Brittany is almost unbelievable, and if Santana hadn't already blinked at least a dozen times to see this is real, she would think it were the most incredible dream. But it's not. She's really making love to Brittany. She's really moving inside of Brittany, and being the one to see Brittany's face contort in complete ecstasy as she pushes deeper, stilling for a few seconds and hitting _that _spot. She's _really _the one lucky enough to get this, and with that thought, she cranes her neck, pressing their lips together and pulling back, their eyes meeting and foreheads resting against each other as she quickens her movement.

She pushes harder a deeper, stopping every few thrusts to drag her hips out slowly, prolonging the pleasure and watching as that pleasure overcomes Brittany. It's got to be one of the sexiest things ever, watching Brittany like this, and it only drives Santana on as she grinds and rolls her body, making sure to create friction against Brittany's clit so that the blonde is gasping sporadic breaths and tightening around her continuously. It feels so damn good and she feels this overwhelming urge to tell Brittany that, but knows if she were to speak it'd ruin the pace set and so she just settles for nudging Brittany's nose with her own, getting their eyes to meet until she's looking at him with dark, piercing eyes.

Affection settles in her chest, amongst the mutual pleasure, and she darts her tongue out, wetting her lips as she rotates her hips, capturing Brittany's lips in a kiss to muffle the moans that pour from her mouth. She knows she doesn't have much left in her, not with the months of anticipation and the amount of heat she can feel building at the base of her spine, but it seems Brittany has less in her because when Santana pulls out and slides back in, burying herself as deep as possible and holding for a second, suddenly the blonde is quaking, her limbs tightening around Santana's waist as pleasure courses through her.

And Santana just watches her girlfriend come in awe, making sure not to fuck up the rhythm set and making sure to prolong Brittany's orgasm, and somehow manages to stare too as Brittany's eyes squeeze shut, her lips popping open and that tiny crease forming between her brows as she climaxes.

It only drives Santana on more, and she leans in to kiss Brittany once as she shifts her hands, pausing momentarily to lift her girlfriend further up and allow herself to pick up the rhythm once more. But her arms are burning, her legs too, and apparently she and Brittany are on the same wavelength because once Brittany's stopping coming, and started racing toward her next orgasm, she leans down, whispering, "the bed" into Santana's lips quickly, unable to say anything lengthier.

Though Santana's too caught up in the pace, too caught up with the sparks of pleasure sizzling beneath her skin and keeps pounding into her girlfriend, the sound of sweaty skin slipping and sliding against each other surrounding them. A hand cups her cheek though, and when she looks into blue eyes she's completely thrown off rhythm and slows down, allowing herself to listen to her girlfriend as Brittany speaks clearer this time.

"I want to be on top of you," the blonde pants, her breath warm and heavy upon Santana's lips and this time, Santana gets it.

Readjusting her grip on Brittany's thighs, she stumbles back to the bed, dropping to sit on the side at the same time she slides out of her girlfriend. Both of them groan loudly from the loss, the cold air piercing against their hot skin, and Brittany swings both legs properly over Santana's thighs, her hips fitting over hers and she leans up on to her knees, reaching between them to grab at Santana's member once more and guides it between them, sinking down slowly and taking her all in again.

Santana's hands instantly grab at the flesh of Brittany's ass, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip as Brittany begins moving again and she uses the grip she has to grind up, forcing more pressure into each other their movements. It must be the right thing to do because the blondes spine buckles, her hands bracing at Santana's shoulders as Santana continues the movement, and it's only shortly after that she hears the breathy moans coming from her girlfriends mouth, along with the words, "Fuck, baby," that makes her entire body tingle.

Though the pleasure proves too much because her movement begins screwing up, skipping off beat and she groans as she tries to get it back on track; but then the hottest thing that's ever happened to her happens and once again, Santana's rendered speechless as she watches her girlfriend in awe. Because Brittany takes the reigns and lets her hips rise and fall, roll and rotate, and the pleasure's so much that Santana has to release a hand from her girlfriends waist and clutch desperately at the sheet of the bed. Heat continuously spreads across her skin, almost too hot and she pushes up with her hips, meeting each downward thrust until Brittany's squeaking, her breasts moving with the movement and face contorting with ecstasy once more.

It's so much, and Santana watches her girlfriend ride her and suddenly feels the overwhelming need to kiss the blonde girl, and so she does, bringing both hands to Brittany's hips as her lips seek out Brittany's, finding them and coaxing her mouth open quickly, her tongue stroking inside her mouth within seconds. She moves to the rhythm set by Brittany's tongue, the pressure almost too much at the base of her spine and it's only a few more well-timed thrusts and painfully amazing grind of Brittany's hips before something inside of her breaks and flashes inside of her.

It explodes and she cries out a loud groan as her hands grip at Brittany's hips, forcing her to keep still as she spills everything she has into the condom, her forehead falling forward to find purchase on Brittany's breastbone as she breathes heavily, the remains of her orgasm bursting through her. Though as she sits there, her hands keeping Brittany still, she realizes that her girlfriend's just breathing against her, arms wrapped tightly around Santana's neck and she begins moving again, one hand sliding down from the pale skin of Brittany's hip to rub small, tight circles on Brittany's clit.

She tips her head back, her eyes finding Brittany's and thrusts up deeply as her fingertips move quicker, and it's only three thrusts and a few circles before Brittany's coming again, her orgasm punching through her as she moans into the air, throwing her head back and tightening her fingers into Santana's dark locks. The walls clench rhythmically around Santana's cock, and her hips jerk at the sensation, and Santana swears she could be coming again from the mere feeling of Brittany squeezing around her.

But then there's silence, apart from both of them panting heavily into the air and Santana finds herself slumping back on to the bed, Brittany following her and draping over the entirety of her body, nose nuzzling into the sweaty skin of Santana's neck as tanned hands make their way to the glistening skin of Brittany's back, fingertips tracing up and down the notches of her spine.

They both wait it out, catching their breath and finally when Santana's able to find words and recover from the most mind-blowing sex _ever, _she bumps her nose against the top of Brittany's head and coaxes her to look up. She does, and Santana giggles before pressing their lips together quickly, cradling her girlfriends body as she shifts them further up the bed and simultaneously slides out of her, taking a moment to whip the condom off and wrap it up in a tissue from the box on the bedside table.

Then they're staring, Santana's arm draped around Brittany's waist and Brittany's hands tucked beneath Santana's chin, and Santana really knows that there's nowhere else she'd rather be, than right here, with Brittany.

"I love you," she breathes, her voice raspy and low.

Brittany visibly shudders at the sound but smiles softly and shifts forward, kissing Santana slowly, softly, her hand coming up to cup her cheek before she barely pulls back and whispers, "I love you, too," into her mouth before closing the gap once more.

And really, Santana's the luckiest girl in the world.

/

"Do you think it'll always be like this?"

Santana bends her neck awkwardly, trying to look at her girlfriend but only being able to stare at the line of Brittany's jaw because she's behind her.

"What do you mean, babe?" She asks, sliding her hands around Brittany's naked waist to find her hands.

They've been sitting out on the dock for an hour now, mostly in silence as they traded the bottle of champgne between them and watch the sun rise. After their second first time came their second second time, their second third time and then their second fourth time, but then they were both physically exhausted, and Santana glanced out the window to find more brightness through the blinds than she expected. Though as she rummaged through her bag to find her phone, she did discover that it was in fact in the early hours of the morning, and so she suggested that she and Brittany get a blanket, drag a lounge chair to the dock and watch over the pond as the sun rose.

(When Santana tried to grab clothes, Brittany had leaped out of bed, shook her head and removed the clothing from Santana's hands before she dragged the blanket off the bed and lead them both down the dock, stark naked with no concern for any neighbors.)

(Not that there are any neighbors, but you know, it probably should've been considered.)

And really, it was a freaking brilliant idea, because now they're sitting here, a naked Brittany lying between Santana's legs as the sun slowly appears in the horizon, and it only does amazing things to Brittany's appearance because it somehow makes her even more beautiful, and for the millionth time tonight, it takes Santana's breath away.

Brittany tilts her head back against Santana's shoulder, twisting until Santana can stare down at her girlfriend. "Like this," the blonde echoes, and squeezes her hand. "Me and you," she elaborates, skimming her nose gently along the underside of Santana's jaw. "Always loving and wanting each other."

The words make Santana's heart damn near jump from her chest, and she smiles softly, eyes closing as she lets her gaze drop but head nod. She's more than sure of that. With that she's feeling now, she's not sure she could ever feel anything for anyone ever again, regardless of who they were. Everything she wants, everything she can ever think of wanting, is Brittany. And if she were sure that Brittany's mom wouldn't castrate her, she'd prove that to Brittany and even buy her a damn ring to show it.

But that's just something to look forward to. Something exciting to anticipate and she presses her lips to Brittany's forehead lovingly, crossing her arms and holding Brittany tighter against her as she whispers, "Yeah, baby. I'm positive it will always be like this."

And she's never been more sure about anything in her life.

/


End file.
